Secrets and Spies
by AustralianRanger012
Summary: Recruited into SHIELD by Agent Phil Coulson and Director Fury himself Clint Barton, aka the assassin Hawkeye, knows this is his second chance to do something good with his life. However, in an agency full of spies there are many secrets and Clint is unwittingly drawn into playing their game. Is our archer up to the challenge? Sequel to Shades of Red and Black.*CSC Universe*
1. A New Life

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **I'm back!**

 **I've have a crazy few months but somehow managed to find the time to finish Shades of Red and Black's sequel and so here it is. If you haven't already I would recommend reading that story first so things in this one will make more sense. Plus, who doesn't love Clint origin stories?**

 **I can't express enough thanks to my beta, jaguarspot, for helping to make this story plausible and for telling me when something didn't make sense. And for encouraging me when I doubted what I'd written was good. Thank you jaguarspot! Any mistakes that remain are 100% mine.**

 **As usual this story is complete, there are ten full chapters and a short epilogue that will be posted separately at the end. I plan on updating once per week like last time as one of the later chapters is still giving me some grief and I want to give myself time to sort it out. Once that's done I'll hopefully be able to update twice per week.**

 **Also, for anyone who's interested, I'm cross posted on AO3 under the same username. The first story is up there already and this one will be going up there with the same updating schedule as it has here.**

 **Also, this universe now has big AU elements but isn't exactly an AU. Thank you for that Age of Ultron.**

 **Enjoy chapter one of Secrets and Spies!**

* * *

Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose. _Lyndon B. Johnston_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A New Life**

It had been just over a day since Clint Barton, aka the deadly mercenary and world class assassin known as Hawkeye, had been brought into the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, otherwise known as SHIELD.

Almost twenty-six hours had passed since he'd arrived back at the organisations main base in New York State along with Director Nick Fury and Agent Phil Coulson.

The first thing they'd done was assign Barton a room and issue him some clothes as he hadn't possessed any other than what he'd been wearing when he'd been arrested by cops in Spain. That done he'd been sent to bed as it was getting late and told they'd sort out the paperwork side of things in the morning.

Barton hadn't had many personal possessions with him when he'd been arrested; when they'd signed him out the prison had given Fury three wicked looking knives, two fake ID's (neither of which was in Barton's real name nor showed his real age) some French and Spanish euro's and a pair of dark purple sunglasses. Hawkeye's trademark bow and quiver were absent and Fury had no idea where they were as the kid wasn't talking. Fury was secretly glad they were absent as it had meant that no one at the prison had guessed who Barton really was. The fact that Hawkeye was such an enigma had frustrated Coulson no end when they were trying to find him but Fury was extremely grateful for that fact now.

Fury was waiting in his office for Barton to arrive; they were finally going to make a start on the paperwork surrounding his recruitment. Fury didn't handle new recruits if they came through the usual channels; he left that to the recruitment officers and trainers, it was what they were paid for after all and Fury had bigger problems to worry about than a bunch of idiotic kids who thought they had something to prove to the world.

However, Fury did try to make a point of handling the 'strays' that many of his officers had an unfortunate tendency to pick up. You didn't always know what you were getting with them and Fury liked to have a chance to assess them before they went into training, especially as most of them already possessed remarkable skill sets and were destined for specific positions within the organisation. Despite the fact that the council generally didn't like the strays in Fury's experience they often made the best agents and were the most loyal given the right motivation. Also, there was something about Barton that intrigued Fury beyond mere interest in his progress. He just had a gut feeling he should keep an eye on the kid and Fury hadn't ignored his gut feelings in years. The last time he'd ignored his gut feelings it had almost ended with him dead.

Fury was aware of Coulson and Barton outside his door before the knock came thanks to the one way glass. Fury barked his usual 'enter' but did look up as Barton closed the door without exposing his back to the room. Coulson had gone for now, he knew how Fury liked to do these things.

Barton was looking better, the bruises on his face were already fading and the cut on the side of his head no longer looked infected. The kid had been to medical last night and had had a quick check-up, he'd initially fought against been given antibiotics for the mild infection that was present but eventually medical had its way with them. It was abundantly clear that Phil's new 'stray' hated doctors and nurses and everyone else in that department with a vengeance. In the end Phil had stayed there with him to make sure he didn't bolt before they were finished checking him out, Nick was still somewhat surprised that had actually worked.

Standard recruitment procedure stated that all potential assets must be fully cleared by medical before they could officially enter training. This morning Barton had gone through the standard medical exam and in spite of his current injures had passed with flying colours, though he wasn't allowed to spar until his slight concussion was gone.

Barton was wearing SHIELD issued black cargo pants and a black t-shirt with a high collar that covering enough of his neck so that the nasty scar Fury knew he had there was hidden. His eyes were still darting everywhere suspiciously and he was really jumpy, Fury wished the kid would calm down but realistically he knew it wasn't going to happen for a while, if ever. Hyper-awareness was a fairly common sniper trait, one that even Phil still exhibited sometimes, amplified in Barton's case by his time spent as an assassin. Barton hadn't been in Fury's office before now, but the way he looked long and hard around the room left Fury in no doubts that he had the layout memorised within the first minute of been inside. Those eyes gave the impression of missing nothing.

Fury was the first to break the silence and nodded at the seat across from him.

"Recruit Barton, please take a seat."

Clint froze. His back would be to the door if he did that, anyone could sneak up on him and he wouldn't be able to see them. Because of his hearing aids Clint didn't always hear things that happened behind him and so preferred to rely on his eyes whenever he could, he liked to keep his distance for a very good reason. He hadn't sat with his back to a door by choice in years and didn't plan to start now.

Fury looked up at him again after a moment of silence and spoke in a slightly softer tone. He'd had plenty of experience with 'strays' before (best that you don't ask) and the last thing you did was make them feel threatened at such an early stage in their training, not if you didn't want it to end badly. And especially not if you wanted to gain their trust and make them want to stay and do their best for you. In Fury's experience trust was the key to working with any agent but he maintained that it often had to be earned; it was not something that was simply given. And Barton didn't have a single good reason to trust anyone as far as he could throw (or shoot) them at this point.

"Relax Barton; no one is going to come through that door without knocking first, and if they have any sense of self-preservation they'll wait for me to give permission before they do. That's providing someone has the courage to actually want to come in here and disturb me in the first place."

Barton actually looked slightly amused at that, and somewhat encouraged Nick continued.

"I know your paranoia has saved your life, enabled you to live this long even, but you can relax now, you're safe here, I know that you don't believe me but I won't let anything happen to you while you are in my office at least. Now sit down so we can get started on all this paperwork."

Fury gestured to the second largest pile on his desk, and Barton's face fell at the sight of it. Fury then went back to reading the document he was holding as he waited for the kid to make up his mind about where to sit, never let it be said that Fury wasn't a patient man when he wanted to be.

Clint still dithered for a few moments, before slowly sitting down in the chair, angling it slightly so he could see the door in his peripheral vision. He then stared unblinkingly at Fury, waiting for what came next.

The younger man's gaze was _really_ intense, but Nick ignored it as he handed him a stack of paper and a pen.

"This is just the introduction to certify you know what you are getting into, what will be expected of you, and the like. By coming here with Coulson and myself you've already basically agreed to it but we need a signature to make it all official and legally binding, verbal agreement isn't enough. Feel free to read it if you want to, it's not that long and will answer some of the questions I'm sure you have about all this."

Clint lowered his head and started reading without a word. He knew how to read, he'd learnt the basics when he still went to school and then during his circus days Elena the acrobat had taken a real shine to him and taught him how to read properly alongside her daughter, Molly. Clint had enjoyed that, the books Elena had were way more interesting than anything he'd ever been allowed to read in all the schools he'd been to.

As he read what would be expected of him here at SHIELD Clint's heart sunk. Despite being able to read fairly well his other academic skills were virtually non-existent. He did know where most European and Asian countries were located and the capitals of the majority of them from his time as an assassin. He was also vaguely aware of world politics as knowing who was pissed off with whom let him know where the best place to look for work was and helped to ensure he would get paid. He also spoke a number of European and Asian languages with varying levels of fluency. Clint actually loved to learn but his opportunities up until now to learn academically had been severely limited.

A rational part of Clint's brain said he should tell Fury that right now but the part that insisted he never show weakness in any form to anyone was even more insistent he keep this to himself. So Clint dithered, unsure what to do, as he tried to make up his mind what to tell the Director.

Fury continued working but after a while he looked up at the younger man with a narrowed eye. He was staring at one piece of paper and his lips were silently moving but his eyes weren't. He'd been staring at that same sheet of paper for a while now and Fury suddenly felt a stab of suspicion. It shouldn't take anyone that long to read a few pages.

"Barton, can you actually read what's written on that page?"

The kid looked up with a start at the question.

"I can read, I'm not that stupid. I know what it says."

"Why is it taking you so long to read it then?"

In spite of his instincts screaming at him not to show any weakness that could be exploited Clint figured he might as well give Fury the option to fire him now; otherwise the man would probably figure out the problem on his own and fire Clint later.

"My other academic skills aren't that strong, _sir_."

Realisation dawned at those words and Fury felt like hitting something or someone, preferably a member of the World Security Council or that asshole Tony Stark. He kept his face impassive however; Fury knew that showing anger in front of Barton wouldn't end well for either of them.

"Barton, when was the last time you went to school? Really went to school to learn, not just attended or pretended to?"

The boy hesitated, chewing his lower lip frantically. Finally he replied hesitantly, not looking Nick in the eye.

"When I was about eight or nine I think. But I can read; that's not the problem."

"What is then?"

Clint realised he had no choice but to tell Fury the truth now; if they were going to kick him out or send him back to prison putting off telling anyone the truth wouldn't stop them. It would only make them madder; Clint had learnt that lesson a long time ago.

"I'm not exactly a scholar, I haven't gone to school since I was ten and even then I didn't pay much attention to maths and stuff, it was always really boring."

Fury sighed, for real, as realisation finally dawned. He really shouldn't be that surprised by this, or by the fact that Barton had tried to hide he didn't have many academic skills. Fury knew better than most that in his profession showing weakness in any form was a bad idea and could get you killed. What Barton didn't know was that he wasn't the first case that had needed higher qualifications upon joining SHIELD and unfortunately was unlikely to be the last. At least he could read which was more than several people he could name had been able to do at intake. His lack of education in other areas wasn't a big deal; it just meant more paperwork.

"How did you manage to get into the army? I presume there was some sort of academic or literacy test?"

"They were short on numbers, and no one asked any difficult questions or looked too closely at the paperwork I gave them. They were just glad to have someone willing to sign on."

That didn't surprise Fury in the least; he'd experienced enough of the grey side of military tactics during his own army career to know that many recruitment officers skirted both the black and the white of the law to satisfy their superiors when it came to recruitment. Fury sat there for a moment or two staring in contemplative silence at the ex-sniper and not so ex-assassin, who stared right back with a clear challenge in his blue eyes.

Fury hadn't dealt with people for years for nothing however; he was a spy for Pete's sake and knew how to read someone when they were putting on a mask. In spite of his bravado act the kid was genuinely scared now that Fury knew about his prime weakness; an almost complete lack of any formal education. Fury looked away after a long moment and started typing on his computer, explaining to Barton what he was doing.

"You are going to have to take the GED test. A lot of our agents have a college degree, I don't expect that from you at this point but you have to have some form of higher education. It's a requirement to work with us. I'll have a tutor assigned to you; they will help you learn what you need for the exams. It's no big deal, nothing that can't be fixed, but I'm afraid you won't have active agent status with us or be allowed to officially enter our training program until you've completed your GED and passed the exams."

Barton said nothing as his eyes flickered between Fury and the desktop, he was still very apprehensive and his body was as tense as a bowstring, pun intended.

Fury finished typing and leant back in his chair as he looked across his desk at the archer, ignoring his threatening body language. Fury idly wondered if at some point in the kids' life someone had taken advantage of his lack of education and hurt him, physically or otherwise. There had to be some reason he was in total defence mode. Most people didn't react with this level of hostility to something as small as this. Still, Fury mused, most people weren't world-renowned lethal assassins.

"So we can both get through this as fast as possible because believe me, I hate paperwork more than anyone else on this base, if you'll like we can go through this paperwork together. Until we sort your education out the only part of this paperwork we can really fill in is the personal details and preferences, along with a few other things, previous employment, reasons for joining, stuff like that. Don't worry," Fury added as he saw Barton start at the last bit, "it only has to be general information at this point, nothing in depth will go into your file that you don't want there. I will have an in depth file on you of course, I do one on everyone, but that will be hard copy only and locked away where only I can access it. It's for your own protection; nothing that could potentially compromise you will be put in your accessible file. I do that for all special assets and those working deep undercover."

Barton looked confused.

"Special assets?"

"Those people who already have remarkable skills when they join us. They are often hand-picked from their disciplines and jobs for the specific skill sets they possess, much like you were, and often have huge gaps in their learning that we have to fill in to turn them into more effective operatives."

Barton relaxed slightly at that, and after hesitating a moment slowly nodded as he lost some of his threatening demeanour.

"Okay, that makes sense I suppose. Where do we start then?"

That was a very good question. Fury quickly glanced through the files in front of him.

"Maybe we could start with your date-of-birth, your _real_ date of birth, as in light of previous experiences I don't feel that I can trust much of what your army file says anymore."

Clint smirked at that, this Fury guy was smart and apparently possessed a sense of humour, which was a nice change from his previous superior officers.

"I was born on October 16th, 1978."

Fury gave him a raised eyebrow and a sceptical look. He hadn't said anything, and after glaring at the man for a while, Clint crumbled.

"What? It's the truth. That is when I was born. At least, that is what I was always told was my birth date."

Fury made a note in the file and nodded.

"Okay."

Sitting back comfortably in the chair, Clint answered the rest of Fury's questions without too much hesitation. They were fairly easy, and Fury knew heaps about him already. It was disconcerting to say the least. He didn't know everything however, and Clint wasn't about to tell him about the important bits he'd missed. He'd only just gotten out of prison thank you very much, and was in no hurry to go back anytime soon.

Fury wrote down Barton's answers to the questions he asked without making him expand on them, he knew a 'yes' or 'no' was likely the only answer he'd be given to a lot of the questions at this point and was secretly glad the kid was willing to give him that much. He also noticed that though he seemed to be answering Fury's questions willingly enough the archer didn't relax or let his guard down once the whole time he was in Fury's office, he was on constant alert. Oh yes, Barton was going to be fun; Phil didn't have a clue what was about to come his way.

* * *

"You want me to be Barton's tutor? Why me?"

"Because Phil, you wanted to bring the kid in, I don't expect you to now leave all the hard work to me, I had enough of that with you and besides, I'm too busy. Barton already opened up slightly to you when we were in the prison and stayed in medical last night purely because you were there so rather than appoint somebody else to be his tutor and complicate matters further it would be easier if you were to do this. You knew he would be a lot of work when you insisted in bringing him on board Phil, as I recall you said as much to me yourself at the time."

Phil sat slumped in the chair in his office, digesting what Fury had just told him. Yes, he had known what he was doing when he'd insisted on bringing Barton in instead of taking him out in Tokyo the first time but he hadn't known the kid didn't have any formal education, nothing he'd read in the army file had even hinted at that. But then Phil was starting to find out that not everything in Barton's file could be trusted, it seemed to be made up of opinions and half-truths.

"So to re-cap, just so I understand this right. The kid isn't even twenty years old yet, formal education ended in like the third grade, he didn't stop being defensive the whole time he was in your office, and we don't know how much of his military file is a lie. Not to mention the whole issue with him being deaf which we found out about at the prison and means more complications on top of complications. What did I let myself in for?"

Fury smirked; there was a dangerous gleam in his eye that Phil failed to see, not that it would have changed anything if he had seen it.

"If you'd known all this up front would you have still insisted on saving him?"

Phil's answer was immediate and punctuated with definite anger.

"He's still got the skills to be an amazing asset for SHIELD; it wouldn't have changed anything."

Fury smiled his I-know-all-the-information-you're-not-telling-me smile. It was unnerving, that smile, even more unnerving than Fury's scowl. At least a scowl meant Fury was mad, a smile could literally mean anything.

"So, you'll do it?"

"Yes, I still stand by my decision and I'll face the fall-out. Barton has too much potential for us not to do all we can for him. Where is he now by the way?"

"Last check I think he was heading towards the mess hall, I told him they had snacks there. You might want to show him around the base, he would probably like to see the shooting ranges and the gyms. You might want to introduce him to Wilkinson as well; Shelley won't be back on base for another few days which should give his concussion time to go before he starts sparring. As soon as he's completely cleared by medical he'll enter regular recruit training here for a month or so until his initial evaluation period is over and he's got his GED certificate. Until then we can evaluate his shooting skills, see if he really is as good as his reputation and the shooting scores in his military file say he is."

"We don't have any bows on base and I haven't had time to order one in. He didn't have his with him and so far hasn't said anything about it. We could use guns I suppose; he's had basic training in firearms from the army and is a crack shot with a sniper rifle."

"I'll leave it with you then Phil, good luck. By the way, May performed brilliantly leading that mission in Istanbul, they should be back at base early tomorrow morning but I thought I'd tell you that now."

Phil practically beamed.

"Thanks boss, I knew the first time I saw her in action that she was wasted working for the CIA. She has the potential to do so much more."

"Just because you were right with her doesn't mean this one will work out as well Phil. Barton and May come from very different backgrounds and are very different people. Keep that in mind soldier."

Phil nodded, realising that Fury was trying to help him in his own unique way.

"Thanks, I will Nick."

* * *

Clint was sipping a chocolate milkshake as he sat at a table in a back corner of the mess hall; he'd positioned his chair in such a way that let his back lean against the wall where he could observe everything that happened in the room without worrying about what went on behind him. His eyes had already noted all the entrances and exits there were available by habit, and he'd made sure where he sat didn't compromise his ability to get out fast if he had to. Clint's sharp eyes took in everything that happened and assessed for threats (not that many people were here at this time of day and those who were largely ignored him) even as his mind was focused on other things.

He was still trying to make sense of everything that had happened to him over the last few days. He'd felt very apprehensive this morning when Fury had discovered he didn't have much formal education, he was worried that would mean he would be kicked out, and, ignoring the fact that he didn't like it here, his only other option was prison and given the choice SHIELD certainly seemed like the lesser of two evils. At least here he wasn't locked up in what amounted to a concrete cage like he had been for the last few days.

Fury, however, hadn't done any of the things Clint had been expecting, including taking advantage of Clint's lack of education by calling him stupid or uneducated. He'd simply informed Clint that he'd have to take a GED exam and said he'd appoint someone to tutor him for it. Still, if they really were serious about wanting him to work for them it made sense they'd want him educated so Clint didn't read into it too much.

He apparently wouldn't be able to officially enter training to become an agent of SHIELD until that was done, but Fury had treated the matter like it was no big deal and could be fixed fairly easily. These guys were certainly something else. But Clint still didn't trust them, they wanted him to but any time in the past he'd trusted someone or opened up his heart to them he'd been let down, betrayed or left for dead. Once it had even been all three. Clint wasn't about to let anything like that happen again if he could help it.

Clint's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sight of Agent Phil Coulson striding into the mess hall and making a bee line for Clint's table without appearing to even look for him. Clint watched him with narrowed eyes, ready to retreat if necessary; realistically he knew the action was futile and Coulson was unlikely to be here to do him harm but habits that were almost as old as he was still held and he had his escape route mapped out before Coulson was halfway across the room. Coulson's body language wasn't threatening however and as soon as he got closer Clint saw he was wearing a genuine looking smile. Not that that was very reassuring, plenty of people had smiled pleasantly just before they did something really nasty to Clint. He'd learnt when he was still a small kid that smiles couldn't be trusted.

Phil stopped a couple of feet away from the table that Barton was sitting at so he didn't feel cornered and smiled kindly at him.

"You almost finished here?"

Clint nodded, immediately suspicious.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I would like to do your firearms evaluation now so we know where you're up to with it when medical fully clears you to enter regular training."

Clint scowled.

"I'm fine now."

Coulson grinned as Clint tensed up and glared at him.

"Rule one Barton; around here you don't question what the doctors say. They are famous for being harder core than even our most infamous field agents and as they always know best the safest course of action is to do whatever they say regarding injuries if you don't want to wake up drugged in medical."

There was a challenging look in the kid's eye at that.

"I don't follow orders."

If his military file was to be believed that was very true. Mind you, having had his share of military experiences in the past Phil was sure at least some of the orders Barton had received were indeed better off being ignored. SHIELD wasn't like that; they expected their agents to say so if they didn't like something in the order they were given and everything they said was listened to; but Phil decided the safest course of action in this scenario was to change the subject as he didn't want to start an argument with Barton about all this right now. Time alone would show Barton that SHIELD was different to his past experiences.

"We can talk about that later, right now the range is waiting. You ready to go shoot something?"

Barton nodded immediately, an almost unholy gleam in his eye; and like that the subject of medical was dropped. For now at least, Phil knew full well this discussion was far from over but it could wait for another day. Barton got up and threw his cup at the nearest bin without even bothering to look where he was aiming, it landed squarely right in the middle of the bin and after looking to see where it had landed the kid smirked. Phil just rolled his eyes, not showing Barton just how impressed he was.

"Come on, I want to see if your aim is that good on a proper range with proper weaponry. Anyone can throw a cup into a bin when they're sitting less than five metres away from it."

* * *

Darryl Wilkinson, the Range Master of SHIELD's New York Base, had heard about the new sniper that had joined them, pretty much everyone on base had by this point, but no one he'd spoken to had actually met him yet. The lab specialists were just finishing up their weekly firearms lesson when he got a text from Coulson asking if the range was free. One of the requirements of SHIELD was that all its members attain a fair level of proficiency with at least one weapon of their choice. That extended to secretaries, lab workers, doctors and everyone else on base, no exceptions were given; though they were allowed to choose the weapon they wanted to use most went with standard issue hand guns. There were group lessons on handling firearms two to three times a week, and it was expected that every person would attend at least one lesson per week. The active field agents tended to use one of the many smaller ranges that were scattered around the base to practice shooting undisturbed when they wanted to as the main range that Wilkinson was in charge of saw a fair bit of traffic. Coulson's message stated he wanted the range empty, and five minutes later Wilkinson had made sure it was.

Clint followed Coulson onto the range. The place was designed to be impressive, with the targets lined up along one wall varying in distance and spacing with the rest of the range being given up to tables and weapon racks. It was all very professional, even more professional than the army's ranges had been. Often all you got there was an open desert and a bit of board. Even in training the facilities he was given to work with hadn't been this fancy.

A short athletic looking man with dark hair that was starting to thin on top was standing by a table holding several different types of hand guns; as soon as they entered he straightened up and greeted Coulson cheerfully. Coulson returned the greeting, clasping his hand in greeting, before turning to Clint.

"Barton, this is Agent Wilkinson. He's the range master of this base, nothing happens here without his say so. Wilkinson, this is Clint Barton. He's here to train as a long distance operative."

Wilkinson nodded in greeting and extended a hand which was ignored. Wilkinson, who wasn't easily offended, took the hint and withdrew his hand.

"Hallo Barton. Long distance operative hah? I don't believe we've had one of them since I joined SHIELD going on what must be twenty years ago now. We have snipers, sure, lots of snipers and they have always done what's needed. But to have someone whose specialty is for long range, that's certainly a first for me. Are you much of a shot?"

Barton glared at him. If looks could kill Wilkinson would have dropped dead at their feet.

"The best there is. I don't miss."

Wilkinson chuckled in spite of the glare, the kid had fire in him and Wilkinson could appreciate that. It made a nice change to the newbie's who were often too scared to even pick up a gun. How they'd managed to get in often baffled Wilkinson, though since the Academy was in operation the number of idiots he had to deal with directly had thankfully dropped significantly. There was still the odd one who slipped through but overall the hopeless ones were weeded out by the time he had to deal with them.

"Show me then, don't bite my head off, prove it kid."

"I'm not a kid."

Wilkinson nodded.

"Okay than, I won't call you that again if you don't like it but I can't say the same for anyone else. You'll likely have a lot of people questioning you and your talents and calling you a kid because you seriously don't look old enough to vote yet, let alone be an agent. The best thing you can do is prove your words are right by your actions and they'll leave you alone. What type of gun would you like? You can use any on the table. What types have you used before?"

Clint ignored Wilkinson as he examined the assembled collection of guns so Wilkinson looked at Phil in a silent question.

"He's a trained sniper. Was with the army and underwent basic training in other firearms."

Wilkinson nodded.

"Okay, that's good to know; obviously sniper rifles aren't going to be a problem then. What about hand guns? Have you ever used those?"

This question was addressed directly to Clint who nodded slowly as he examined the weapons spread out on the table in front of him, running his figure carefully over each one.

"Did some training with them in the army and I do know how to use pistols."

"I'm sure you do."

Clint glared at Wilkinson, who held his hands out as a sign of peace.

"Hey, if you talk to people with that tone of voice you are likely to get a negative reaction from them, I'm pretty tolerant and hard to offend but not many are around here and most won't take kindly to that attitude."

Barton's glare was starting to make Wilkinson feel uncomfortable, which was saying something seeing as he regularly dealt with snipers and was famous around SHIELD for treating all the weapons under his care like his children. This reputation may or may not be due to rumours of an incident that happened over ten years ago that may or may not have involved a gun smuggler and his blatant abuse of the weapons in his possession. Wilkinson never said anything about it to anyone and everyone knew it was best not to ask for details. After all, the man was the weapons master on one of the main SHIELD bases for one reason; he was very good with guns and wasn't afraid to use them.

Seeing Barton didn't appear to be going to do anything anytime soon but look at the weapons Wilkinson gestured to the table which held the hand guns the specialists had finished with.

"Want to show me just how good you are at shooting then Barton?"

* * *

The kid hadn't been joking or even bragging when he said he was the best shot there was. Half an hour later and he'd smashed whatever record had previously existed at SHIELD involving accuracy with guns and set a new one that he then proceeded to beat again. Wilkinson and Coulson both watched without a word, Wilkinson with his mouth literally hanging open and Coulson with slightly raised eyebrows, somewhat impressed. Barton really _was that good_. He had blazed through all the handguns despite saying he didn't like them and was currently making impossible looking shots with a sniper rifle. Phil hadn't been sure about his military shooting scores as they'd seemed too good to be true, he realised now they were, if anything, woefully underrated. Barton was simply the best marksman Phil had ever seen.

Just then the door on Phil's right opened. Glancing at the newcomer Phil saw it was Johnson Hughes. Hughes was an old friend of Phil's from the army and Phil wasn't that surprised he was here now as they hadn't seen each other in well over a month, what with Phil being first in Tokyo, then Paris and then taking off to Louisiana with Fury, the last of which had captured the attention of a lot of people on base, not that anyone knew any details regarding the trip as they were all highly classified.

Spying Phil and the still awe struck Wilkinson standing together Hughes smiled and started walked over to him. Then he spied Barton, stopped dead in his tracks and simply stared, his eyes looking like they might fall out of his head.

Coulson did the same, without the goggling eyes. After a few minutes of staring, Hughes's feet carried him over to Coulson, and he finally found his tongue.

"Who is that?"

Phil grinned in pride.

"We've acquired a new sniper."

Wilkinson found his voice just then.

"Damn right we have. Where'd you find him exactly Coulson? He's unreal."

Hughes continued to stare, opening and shutting his mouth a few times in a fashion not that dissimilar to a goldfish before words finally came out again.

"Yes, where did you pick this one up? The rumour mill has it he's the mercenary know as Hawkeye. Is that true Coulsy?"

Wilkinson rolled his eyes at the nickname while Phil smirked.

"His recruitment is classified above your security clearance. Sorry Hughes."

"Aw, Phil, you wound me." Hughes pouted. "I'm only two levels below you. Come on, were did he come from?"

In spite of Hughes's pestering Phil wouldn't be budged.

"As I said before, for the moment his recruitment details are classified. Directors orders, sorry Hughes."

Wilkinson spoke up again when they'd finished speaking, his eyes still fixed on Barton and his shooting.

"I don't care where he came from. Damn, that kid can shoot."

* * *

Clint finished firing the last round of bullets, having long since gotten bored of bullseyes he had been making pictures in the targets instead. He felt another pair of eyes on him besides Coulson's and Wilkinson's, turning towards them he saw they were talking to a fair haired man who wasn't very tall, but was still taller than Clint, but then most people were taller than him so that wasn't anything new. He had apparently been talking with Coulson while Clint shot; Coulson saw Clint turn around and beckoned to him.

Clint replaced the gun and removed the safety gear he'd been wearing before he walked slowly towards the three men, watching the newcomer warily, even though nothing bad had happened here so far, Clint wasn't one for taking chances. The newcomer simply grinned at him; Clint inwardly smirked to see that Wilkinson was apparently in a state of shock over his shooting abilities. And that was with guns, if they thought that was impressive wait until they saw him with a _bow_.

Approaching the three men Clint was careful to keep Coulson between himself and the newcomer, not that that would do him much good if they decided to do anything to him. Coulson however just grinned at him before introducing the blonde man.

"Agent Johnson Hughes, one of our best field agents and an old mate of mine. Johnson, this is Clint Barton, our newest Agent-in-training."

Clint just nodded at Hughes.

"Hi."

Hughes had finally managed to form his thoughts coherently enough to speak.

"PA Barton, that was an incredible display, I don't think I've ever seen anyone do what you just did. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Clint just shrugged, careful not to meet anyone's eyes.

"You pick things up; I was a sniper in the army."

"It's like a circus act or something. All that fancy shooting, I'm not sure that even the best snipers I've met could have made those shots you just did. I think that I speak for everyone when I say this, welcome to SHIELD."

Clint wasn't sure what to make of Hughes, he seemed too jolly which was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in his head, so he just nodded again.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Hughes was very cheerful as he slapped first Coulson then Wilkinson on the back companionably. He didn't attempt to touch Clint, for which he was very grateful; he'd probably have put Hughes on the floor if that had happened.

"I'd better be getting off now Coulson, Wilkinson, Barton. Things to do, people to see, places to go, as they say the wicked don't rest so neither should we. See you guys around."

Barton didn't say anything until after Hughes had left. Then he looked at Coulson.

"What now?"

It was Wilkinson who answered him.

"If you are finished shooting all the guns must be cleaned before they're put away. The rule here is that all weaponry must be kept immaculate at all times which means cleaning it thoroughly after every use, you use it you clean it. I've got time free now so I can run through anything you are unsure about, though being ex-military surely you know guns?"

Clint shrugged.

"Haven't been in the military for a while, and even then it was mostly the sniper rifles, haven't done much work with handguns ever."

Wilkinson nodded at that.

"Yeh, the army tends to be like that, specialises in one type of weapon per soldier, especially if you're a sniper. I personally think that's a bit ridiculous. What are you going to be training for again?"

Coulson spoke up when he noticed that Barton appeared to ignore the question.

"Barton's being brought on board to serve as a covert long distance operative, that's the prime objective of his training."

Wilkinson nodded.

"Righto, that's good to know. I don't think I can help much with your aim Barton, if anything I'm the one who needs to take lessons from _you_. You still need to work with the guns every day and gain more practice with using them, even the best Agents we have train constantly. You especially need more practice with the handguns as you obviously aren't as familiar with those."

"If you ever have any questions about anything you are more than welcome to ask, I get too many idiots through here who think they know it all and don't listen to those who actually have experience with guns and have been in combat until they shoot themselves in the foot, sometimes literally. In fact I might ask for your help sometime to bring the new recruits down a few pegs. Make them realize they are only small fish and the ocean is much bigger than their pond was."

Coulson rolled his eyes at that.

"The new recruits do tend to be a bunch of idiots. At least since Fury set up the new recruitment program we don't have to deal directly with the raw recruits anymore, the Academy does that quite successfully from what I've heard."

Barton was listening with a frown on his face.

"The Academy?"

"A special school for training agents so we don't have to do it on the main bases." Wilkinson explained. "The idea is they qualify there and even work from the Academy if needed. They often don't set foot on a working base until they've passed months of training and assessments. It's working really well."

Clint simply nodded, not interested enough or willing to push for more information at this point.

"Anyway," Wilkinson had mostly recovered from his initial shock over Clint's shooting abilities and was acting more like the trained SHIELD agent he was. "Enough of SHIELD gossip for now, have you finished or do you want to shoot some more? There are no classes scheduled for another half-hour, so no one should bother you of you wanted to practice some more."

Clint shook his head.

"Nah, guns get boring after a while. What I would like is a bow, that's my weapon of choice."

Wilkinson blinked.

"Sorry, I don't think I heard you right, did you say a _bow_? Like in a bow and arrows?"

"I said a bow."

The kids grin was almost predatory, Coulson noticed. Wilkinson just blinked and slowly nodded.

"Okay then, I've never had anyone express preference for using a bow before so we'll have to see about ordering one in. Any preferences regarding the type? I have to admit I don't know much about them."

"A recurve." Barton shrugged. "I had one but I lost it. I like the draw weight to be about 80 pounds."

Wilkinson blinked again.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. It'll probably take a few days to order one though."

"I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Phil was very glad to hear those words, he knew he was taking a huge risk bringing Barton in and didn't need the kid to think of running away when he hadn't even been here for two days yet; he'd almost ended up with a tracking anklet as it was and they didn't need that rot. He'd only gotten out of it so far because Fury didn't like using them if they weren't absolutely necessary and the council didn't yet know about Barton. Phil was hoping they wouldn't kick up a stink when they did hear; he didn't need the shit storm of trouble that was likely to cause.

Phil left Barton to clean the guns and put them away under Wilkinson's watchful eye, telling him to meet him at the entrance to the outdoor training area when he was finished so he could finish showing him around the base. Barton had nodded silently at that before going with Wilkinson and Phil had left the range deep in thought.

Barton was good; his accuracy with guns was right off the charts. Phil was really looking forward to seeing him with a bow, if he was right in saying he was better with a bow than he was with the guns then he must really be something to watch.

* * *

 **End of Chapter 1**

* * *

 **I can't take credit for the line 'the wicked don't rest so neither should we'. I got it from an episode of White Collar.**

* * *

 **So, what do you think of the beginning of the adventure? Review and let me know please, I love reviews!**


	2. Reflections Discussions Introductions

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **Thankyou to all who have reviewed, followed or favourited this week! Special thanks especially to niamhm100, two guests and Armand for their reviews of chapter 1! This is just the beginning; there's plenty more to come and it's going to be a wild ride so enjoy!**

 **As usual, a big shout out of thanks goes to my beta, jaguarspot!** **Without her help this story wouldn't be half as good as it is.**

 **Also, in case anyone was wondering why the story image kept changing all last week I was having a disagreement with Fanfiction that ended with my re-uploading the image which seemed to fix the problem. Hopefully the right image will stay up this time.**

 **Also, my knowledge of the GED comes from a Google search. Apologies if I've gotten any details wrong.**

 **Enjoy chapter 2.**

* * *

Hope is being able to see that there is light in spite of all the darkness. _Desmond Tutu_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Reflections, Discussions and Introductions**

Later that afternoon Clint had an appointment with the psych department, another standard procedure for new recruits. He hadn't been going to go to it until Coulson had practically chased him there and glared at him with a look that could probably have burned through metal if he had really wanted it to until Clint went in. That didn't mean he said anything; he just glared at the shrink for the full hour with a look that would have killed an army if looks could kill. In spite of that the man didn't seem to be too bothered, he took lots of notes in perfect handwriting as he asked lots of questions, even though Clint didn't say a word to him in reply.

It was unsettling and did nothing to help Clint's mood.

Dr Kalman was still busy looking at Clint, ignoring his glare, talking to him and writing notes when their time was up. The female secretary escorted Clint out, Coulson was waiting for him.

"How'd it go?"

He received a glare that almost rivalled Fury's for his trouble.

That told Phil all he needed to know about how it had gone.

Now was probably a good time to diffuse the situation, or at least try to, before it got too far out of hand.

"It's getting late and unless you want to get caught in a traffic jam in the mess hall might I suggest you get food now? Dinner is served from five 'till nine for on base agents, its quarter past six now and from six-thirty to eight-thirty is the busiest time."

Clint gave Coulson another of his famous glares and stalked off without a word. He would jolly well get his meal when he felt like it; right now he didn't feel like dealing with anyone, at least not without punching them. And Clint was pretty sure that wouldn't go down well with the shrink. He knew his head space was seriously messed up, but why couldn't these people leave him alone for Pete's sake? Talking to a complete stranger about his problems wouldn't fix them; in fact it would only make them worse.

* * *

"How'd he go?"

Coulson was talking to Dr. Kalman about Barton's evaluation.

"He didn't say a word to me for the whole hour and if I hadn't worked with severely traumatised and very deadly agents in the past his glare would probably have killed me. He's one very messed up individual Phil."

Coulson sighed, slumping down in his chair.

"I know that already, believe me. What's the official verdict at this stage?"

Kalman smiled kindly. He was always like this, understanding and empathetic but still cheerful and able to deal with significant trauma without breaking down. Phil often wondered how the man did it and still stayed sane.

"He needs time, and to be shown that he can trust people and that we aren't going to hurt him, abandon him or use him for our own gain with no thought of his safety or well-being."

Phil sighed again as the doctor referred to his notes.

"He was very antsy when I asked him questions about his past; you recruited him out of prison didn't you?" At Phil's nod the shrink continued "The file Fury supplied me with told me the basics of his life beforehand, namely that he was discharged from the army and spent eighteen months in the wind as a mercenary before coming into SHIELD. I don't know the circumstances that led to what happened but given his age at the time I can only image what that must do to someone."

"Official verdict? His headspace is totally messed up; I don't even know where to start to be honest as he isn't talking to me and is unlikely to for a long time if today's session was any indication. I was able to deduce a lot from watching his body language, he's good at hiding his emotions but not as good as I am at spotting them and no matter how hard you try to hide them the body does have its tells when you know what to look for."

"Personally if I was you I'd forget about making him see me for now as I think it's probably going to be a colossal waste of time and instead just concentrate on his physical training. Obviously he'll need to be cleared by me before qualifying as an agent but that is a few months away at least. Give him space, he there for him and don't push him unnecessarily. I'll have all my people looking out for him and if you can report anything that seems to be going on with him that's causing a problem that will be great. That is probably the best advice I can give you at this time. He isn't going to be an easy case."

Phil sat up and looked somewhat desperate at the shrinks' words.

"Time? That's the best advice you can give me?"

"I'm not a miracle worker Phil. I can't help someone if they won't talk to me and don't want to be helped. When does he enter training?"

"As soon as medical clears him to spar. He was suffering a slight concussion when we brought him in so has orders to keep quiet until it's gone. He should be in training by the end of the week."

Kalman nodded.

"I'll have a chat to Shelley about him when she gets back to base and have her keep an eye on him and report back to me so I can work up a bit of a profile on him. Often the best way to tell something about someone's personality in this sort of situation is to watch how they fight and handle themselves. Especially someone like Barton as we aren't going to go anywhere fast if he won't talk to me."

"Let him fight? That is seriously what you are telling me to do here?"

"And keep an eye on him to report back to me. Yes Phil; that is what I recommend in this instance. If he wants to talk I'm here. Otherwise let him do what he enjoys doing and keep a close watch on him."

Phil chewed this over before looking straight at the shrink.

"Can I ask your official opinion on something? I know you might not be able to answer it yet but I would like your input."

Kalman nodded immediately.

"Fire away Phil; I'll do my best to answer."

"I'm debating whether sending him to the Academy is a good idea, what do you think? He'll be with people closer to his own age which might serve to draw him out of his shell. He would certainly benefit from taking some of the classes there."

Kalman pursed his lips as he considered the question carefully.

"I'm not sure that is a great idea at this point, he doesn't seem to want to interact with other people which would make his time at the Academy very hard. Also, he might only be nineteen in age but his maturity level is much higher, he's hardly a kid Phil. I'd leave it a for a month or two if I were you, give him time to settle in and calm down before sending him into that madhouse."

"It's not that bad."

"Have you stayed there for any length of time? It is a madhouse, too many damn egos flying around for my taste. There is a reason I'm stationed on the main base."

Kalman suddenly looked over at Phil with sharp eyes.

"You care about this kid don't you Phil? You've bought in people before and haven't thought much about it, what's so special about this one?"

Phil quickly got up.

"I think I'll be going. Thank you for your time and your help Dr Kalman."

The shrink only chuckled softly.

"No worries, good luck Phil. I can tell you right now you are going to need it. Just remember I am always here if either of you need me."

* * *

That night Clint couldn't sleep.

The traumatic experiences and emotional stress of everything that had happened over the last few weeks was finally catching up with him. First the events in Tokyo, then Budapest (which was supposed to be a holiday _damn it_ , it hadn't quite worked out that way), then meeting Coulson back in Paris before managing to get arrested in Spain and all that had happened in relation to that, in short Clint found it impossible to switch his brain off.

The room he'd been installed in wasn't bad. It was furnished comfortably enough with a single bed, an office chair, built-in wardrobe and a desk. He shared a bathroom down the hall with half-a-dozen others who were staying in this wing of the complex. The room even had a window which though it was small could open to let fresh air in so he didn't feel like he was trapped in a cell which Clint appreciated.

Clint knew by now new agents normally shared bunkrooms or a suite and it was due to Coulson that he had a room to himself in a quieter part of the building. That didn't mean there wasn't a lot of traffic along this route, there was, but it still afforded him more privacy and space than he would otherwise have which he was grateful for. He hadn't really had privacy in years; probably the closest thing he'd ever had was when he was working contracts and staying in single motel rooms, and sometimes even those hadn't been very private.

Clint eventually gave up on sleep, instead deciding to go find somewhere high up to think. He had already scouted every part of the building complex he had clearance to be in as well as several he didn't and as a result knew a way to get onto the roof. It required a fair level of agility and sneakiness but Clint didn't find that hard.

Almost fifteen minutes later he was settled comfortably on the roof, taking in the almost full moon and the stars twinkling overhead. After his time spent in prison he felt that he couldn't get enough fresh air. He hated being contained against his will; though he wasn't claustrophobic and quite liked small spaces on his terms (like air ducts, his secret to getting onto the roof without using the door) he sometimes needed bigger spaces to think. Clint breathed in the cold night air for a while before staring out at nothing, trying to sort out everything that had happened to him in the last week and put his thoughts into some semblance of order.

First, what he knew for sure. Director Fury and Agent Coulson had saved him from prison and possibly death row because they wanted him in their organisation. Despite all he'd done and who he was they'd given him a chance to change and were helping him. Or at least that's what they said they were doing. Clint still didn't believe them but that wasn't important right now.

They were going to train him, educate him, and groom him as an agent for SHIELD. Okay, that part was pretty clear. They wanted him to talk to them more and to trust them, wasn't going to happen in the near future. Clint had already tried to work out again and again what they really wanted from him in return for all this, he couldn't figure out anything apart from his skills. They had those, so why go to all the trouble still? Clint didn't understand, people didn't just do nice things without an ulterior motive, so what was SHIELD's?

If they wanted him dead, why go to all the trouble to train him? Was it possible they could actually be telling the truth? So many questions, Clint struggled as he tried to put things into some logical order.

He really did want to use his marksmanship talents for good, he'd tried to time and time again in the past and things had always gone sideways on him, no matter how hard he tried to go straight it seemed he'd always managed to end up back on the crooked path. In the end he'd all but given up and had been in danger of completely losing himself to the dark side; and then Coulson's offer had come out of the blue and offered a brief glimmer of light and hope in a world full of darkness and despair.

In spite of that Clint still wasn't sure he wanted to be here, but he certainly didn't want to die or rot in prison. They were pretty much his only alternatives to SHIELD as this point and Clint didn't find either one overly appealing. Still, he was suspicious as hell as all this seemed too good and easy to be true, in his experience things were _never_ this easy and there was always a catch. Clint felt very pessimistic with the whole situation he'd found himself in as he stared moodily out into the dark night.

Suddenly his thoughts went to one of the questions the shrink had asked him during his session this afternoon and without meaning to he winced. The gist of the question was did he want to give SHIELD a fair try and turn his life around? Did he really want to be at SHIELD? Damn the shrink, damn SHIELD; that was a question Clint didn't have an answer for right now.

To be truthful he hadn't really thought about it too much up to this point, he had just gone along with whatever had happened as it was certainly a better alternative then staying in prison. Even though he'd told Coulson he'd planned to ring and take him up on his offer he wasn't sure if he would have actually gone through with it if he'd stopped to think too hard.

Well, due to unfortunate circumstances that decision had been taken out of his hands and he was here now, whether he liked it or not. Clint didn't have much of a choice but to go along with them. He knew he wasn't safe out there on his own now, even though he could probably run if he wanted to SHIELD would likely catch up with him before he could make it out of the country. They wouldn't be so nice next time either, having agreed to the terms of what would happen if he went rogue made him sure of that. Disavowed followed by elimination, or termination of threat, as the paperwork had put it. Clint snorted, why couldn't they just say death?

He didn't know how much time passed as he just sat there, trying not to think. It was probably hours before his thoughts calmed down and Clint finally felt tired. So much had happened, and the exhaustion from being alert and wary all the time was starting to catch up to him. He hoped that meant he might actually be able to sleep for what remained of the night.

* * *

Clint was in the middle of eating his breakfast the next day when Coulson came striding into the room, the sea of agents milling around the room magically parting before him to create a path. The Agent was honest-to-goodness humming as he moved along the food lines far quicker than what was the normal speed.

Clint watched him get his breakfast with a narrowed eye. He was sitting alone at the table located in the corner of the mess hall which he'd pretty much marked as his own due to it having excellent sight lines and easy access to the exits. A hard glare was all it took to ensure no one else sat down at _his_ table, that and the fact that when another male agent had tried to Clint had fingered his plastic knife in a way that made the agent back off very fast. Clint knew he'd spent too much time around Natasha as that was the sort of intimidation technique she would use but Clint couldn't help but be pleased with the results of her tutoring.

Coulson was going to be harder to move. Clint quickly discovered that Coulson was actually _impossible_ to move when he decided he was sitting somewhere. As soon as he got his food the agent strode towards Clint and, ignoring his glare and the plastic knife, sat down at the table opposite him and started eating. Clint continued to glare but Coulson seemed oblivious to the assassins attempt to burn a hole through him. It wasn't until he had eaten about half the food on the tray that he finally looked up.

"Why are you glaring at me?"

Clint glared harder.

"You're sitting at my table uninvited."

"Didn't see your name on it. The tables in here are communal."

His glare having no effect whatsoever on Coulson unsettled Clint, the only other person he'd ever met (apart from Fury) who his glare had had minimal effect on was Natasha. He was largely immune to her glare just like she was pretty much immune to his, it made for a nice change as they couldn't out-glare each other. Yes, they had tried, in the end they'd had to declare it a tie.

Whereas here Coulson was immune to his glare but he wasn't immune to Coulson's which Clint didn't like at all. Coulson simply continued to eat his breakfast, taking his time. It wasn't until he was almost finished that he finally looked at Clint again.

"I want you in my office at nine sharp. Don't be late. You know where it is?"

Clint nodded shortly, still pissed off with Coulson sitting at his table and refusing to leave. That nod seemed to be all that Coulson was waiting for as once Clint had nodded he got up and disappeared into the maze of agents still milling around in the hall, leaving Clint blinking and trying to figure out how Coulson could manage to melt into the sea of Agents when they all parted for him to go through. Finally giving it up Clint quickly finished his own food before depositing his tray on top of the rubbish bin and heading towards his room. He had half an hour before he had to see Coulson, Clint figured it would take him maybe fifteen minutes to get there.

* * *

Coulson frowned heavily at the pile of paper sitting innocently on his desk as he waited for Barton to arrive. Since he'd been appointed to tutor the kid and get his academic skills up to scratch Fury had had all the GED work forwarded to him, and there was a lot of it. Coulson had spent most of the previous day working out a timetable for Barton so that he would cover all the areas SHIELD required, both physically and academically. The majority of the work wouldn't be here until tomorrow or the next day but in the meantime they had to work out how to fit everything into the study periods Phil had allocated on the timetable.

That, Phil was not looking forward to discussing with Barton.

A noise from the door, which Phil had left slightly ajar, drew his attention away from the paperwork for a moment as Barton entered the room. Phil checked his watch, nine on the dot. At least that was a good start to this conversation; Phil didn't even dare to hope the rest of it would be this easy.

Barton hesitated in the doorway as he looked at Phil, waiting for instructions on what to do next. Phil nodded to him.

"Barton, please close the door behind you and sit down. We have some important things to discuss. You are not in trouble so don't look at me like that."

Barton lost some of the defensive look before he slowly closed the door and sat down, angling his chair so the door was located in his peripheral vision. Phil looked at the paperwork lying on his desk and then at the closed-off body language of their newest recruit and mentally sighed. This was not going to be easy, curse Fury and his love of punishments.

"I suppose you are wondering why I want to see you."

Barton just shrugged, averting his gaze.

"Not really."

"I find that hard to believe." Phil deadpanned as he moved a few papers out of the way to get to what was underneath, the first of the issues he had to address with Barton. "Normally being called to my office means you're in trouble for something, obviously you haven't spoken to the other agents and recruits."

Barton didn't answer that but Phil was pretty sure he hadn't been interacting much with anyone since he'd been brought in. Phil was hoping he just needed more time to adjust and wasn't completely anti-social.

"We would have gone through this yesterday but for a few complications which are now thankfully fixed. First up we need to talk about your hearing aids."

The blonde instantly grew defensive.

"Why do we? You've already said they won't make any difference for what you want me for."

"They won't." Phil was calm and collected, he'd known ahead of time that this would be a difficult conversation and had planned accordingly, just stay calm Phil. "But we need to know everything regarding the injury so we can look at all the options. You said those aids are custom made, care to tell me where you got them?"

No answer, Phil wasn't surprised. He knew the boy wasn't going to open up about his past after only a couple of days; he knew better than to even try to find out how it had happened at this point. Instead of pushing Barton he changed tactics.

"Are they comfortable? SHIELD has access to the most advanced technology on the planet and I'm sure R&D would be delighted to design hearing aids that would probably fit like a second skin. Having no experience with aids I can't really judge but some people have told me conventional aids are bulky."

"What part of custom-made did you not get? These aids are _fine_."

Phil was suddenly fed up with Barton's attitude. He wasn't getting anywhere treating him as he currently was so Phil tried a completely different tactic, hoping with all his might that it wouldn't spectacularly backfire on him.

"Barton, listen closely to me as I am not repeating this. You seem to have the wrong ideas. We aren't doing these things out of pity; we want to make you a more effective operative and you aren't going to be any use to us if you can't hear or are having an issue with a badly fitted or malfunctioning hearing aid. SHIELD wants you to work for them and be loyal, in return we will make sure you have everything you need and anything else you ask for within reason. Asking for new hearing aids so you can do your job better is definitely within reason. We want to help you so you will perform better, and we can't do that unless you tell us how, SHIELD doesn't like guessing. So I'll ask again, are the aids really comfortable or do you want to try something smaller and possibly much better?"

* * *

Clint felt a bit ashamed after Coulson's speech but wasn't going to let on that he was. Instead he glared at Coulson as he tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts about his hearing. These aids, despite being custom-made and very expensive, often made his ears sore and had lost signal more than once, sometimes leading to major complications. Clint suspected that was part of the reason he'd been arrested in Spain, he didn't remember much of the accident but he knew he hadn't heard the car coming up on his right side before it had side-swiped him.

Coulson had confirmed what he'd suspected all along; SHIELD was only interested in his skills and all this was purely to make him a better operative. Clint wasn't sure why that news upset him so much. Pretty much his whole life he'd been treated like a tool that others hadn't hesitated in using for their own means. He'd been made to do things he'd despised countless times and people often hadn't treated him half as nice as SHIELD had so far. Clint suspected it was the exhaustion and stress speaking, that and the fact he'd always been an idiot where other people had been concerned, blindly trusting Barney and ignoring the acrobats' advice hadn't been the smartest thing he'd done. Hey, no one had ever accused him of being bright.

It was when he'd proven to be so blatantly wrong in his choices that he'd lost his last bit of faith in people, if you couldn't trust family to look out for you who could you trust? And Clint had discovered he couldn't trust family, they were just as ready to use you for their own ends as anyone else, just as ready to stab you in the back and walk away without a backward glance. Sometimes literally.

Clint dropped his eyes and swallowed as he pulled himself together enough to answer Coulson honestly, after all he'd done for Clint the man deserved that much.

"My ears often do hurt, and the sound in the right one recently started dropping out. Smaller ones would be nice but these ones are smaller than standard ones, do you really have people who can make them even smaller?"

"Barton, we have people who could probably shrink this base down to pocket size if given enough leeway. I knew R&D will have a field day designing new hearing aids. So you do want them?"

Clint nodded once, shortly.

"Yeh, I'll give them a go. Anything to hear."

Coulson just nodded.

"Okay then, I'll fill out the necessary forms and start the paperwork today. I do want your ears properly checked out by someone who knows what they're doing before we order them however, and I want that done ASAP. That way we'll be able to design aides to specifically suit your ears and hearing range. We want the best for all our operatives so they can effectively do whatever job we set for them to do."

Clint still felt slightly ashamed on how he had acted earlier so he didn't reply to that. Coulson looked at him for a long moment before handing over a folder which when opened turned out to be a timetable. Clint hadn't even finished reading the first column before he looked up at Coulson with dismay.

"I have to do schoolwork every afternoon for almost four hours, seven days a week? I don't even get a weekend off?"

Coulson didn't seem the least concerned by Clint's dismay.

"No, not until you've passed your exams and have your GED. Keep reading, I think you'll like most of what you find on the schedule."

Clint glared but gave in and read the whole folder. If he was honest with himself it wasn't really that bad. In the morning from eight until eleven he would be in general training with other agents, from eleven until one he would be in the shooting range under Wilkinson's supervision, at least until he was more comfortable with handling guns as he was out of practice and it showed. One-thirty he was to be with Coulson to study for his GED until five when he would be released. He also had medical examinations rostered into the few spare hours not covered by training every few days. Overall it wasn't that bad but Clint wasn't going to just accept the timetable; that would be too easy and since when had he made things easy on himself?

Instead he glared at Coulson. He was still mad at the agent and if the man really wanted Clint in SHIELD he'd show him just how big a pain he could be given half a chance.

"I seriously don't get any spare time?"

"You do." Coulson was unruffled. "You'll have a couple of hours to yourself most nights. This timetable is only until you have your GED, hopefully by then you'll know enough to move into more intensive training but for now that is what you are going to do. I think you're man enough to handle it."

Clint scowled. There wasn't anything he could say to that that wouldn't make him sound like an impertinent child, which was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd spent years crafting the don't-listen-to-orders-pain-in-the-ass attitude that he used to rile up all his superiors, but Coulson seemed immune to it which Clint didn't like at all. Moreover, this man knew exactly how to metaphorically back Clint into a corner where smart come-backs were concerned, Clint didn't know if it was his natural state or if Coulson was just much more perceptive than Clint gave him credit for.

Either way, it meant Clint had to come up with new ways to be annoying. If he couldn't do it with words he'd just have to find another way, acting insubordinate and not obeying orders would be a good place to start, see how far he could push the agent before he snapped. In Clint's experience everyone had a breaking point. There was no way he was going easy on Coulson even though the man had quite literally saved his life, it wasn't in his nature. They wanted him, they had him, pain-in-the-ass attitude and all. They'd better get used to it.

Coulson shifted some paper around on his desk before looking at Clint.

"If you've finished reading the timetable I think it's time we sort out some of this GED work. Your schedule won't start until tomorrow, and even then you will skip the sparring part of general training until medical says your concussion is completely gone."

"It's fine now."

The look Coulson gave him was longsuffering.

"Medical..."

Clint huffed.

"I know, will drug me up to the gills and tie my ass to the bed, you've already said that. I've lived through worse."

Much worse, Coulson really had no idea and Clint wasn't about to enlighten him.

Coulson still looked disapproving.

"Either way, you're not sparring until they clear you. That's not negotiable."

Clint huffed again and glared at Coulson who looked like he was prepared to wait all day. Clint sighed and slumped down in his chair.

"Fine, whatever, _sir_. Can we get this over with now or what?"

"Got an appointment you're late for Barton?"

"Yeah, with your mother."

Something like sadness passed over the older man's eyes.

"She's dead."

Oh.

A pause.

"I'm sorry."

Coulson just shrugged as he handed Clint a workbook.

"It was years ago, my dad is also dead and I was an only child so no siblings. Now can we sort all this paperwork out so I'll have room on my desk again?"

* * *

Clint stretched his neck, wincing as his muscles un-kinked themselves. He'd been sitting here with Coulson for almost three hours, going through the GED work and figuring out how they would proceed with it. Coulson hadn't set a date for the testing yet, he wanted to see how well they went before giving them a timeline to work towards. Clint was okay with that for now, glancing through the paperwork as they'd sorted it out had told him he had a lot to learn. His whole life he'd had to work on a short timeline and not having any time limit to get this job done, at least for now, was somewhat of a novelty.

Coulson smiled at him.

"I think we've got all this organised enough for you to start working on what is here tomorrow afternoon. What do you think?"

Clint just shrugged, he didn't really care.

"Whatever."

Coulson seemed to take that as agreement to starting tomorrow and started gathering up the loose bits of paper, stacking them neatly into piles until there was literally not a paper out of place.

Clint just sat slumped back in his chair, mentally exhausted from reading so much in a short period of time, he seriously felt like he'd done more reading in the last three hours than he'd done in the last three years which he probably had.

Despite his exhaustion he felt wound up and restless, the sort of restlessness that was hard to get rid of, a few hours with his bow would normally do it but Clint hadn't had it with him when he was arrested and SHIELD didn't have any on hand, it was a rather unusual weapon to say the least. The range master had said he would order one but that it would take a few days to come in, in the meantime Clint would have to make do with guns which were _boring_ compared to his bow. He'd always felt like a gun was a cheats weapon, he'd often wished during his time with the army that they'd let him use a bow. He was way more comfortable with a bow than he was with a gun.

Coulson stood up and stretched a bit before addressing Clint.

"Good work this morning; you have the rest of the afternoon off so you are free to do whatever you like. The range is available if that interests you, then there's the running track and gyms if you want more physical exercise. But first you must want something to eat, I know that I do."

Clint was feeling hungry; breakfast had been a long time ago. When he'd been in the army mealtimes had been fairly regular, while working as an assassin he tended to eat when he was hungry. He'd known from an early age the best types of food to eat that filled you up and lasted a long time, knowledge that had come in very useful over time. Years of having very little and often going hungry had also taught him never to turn down free food, which was essentially what SHIELD was giving him. So he nodded in answer to Coulson's question.

"I am a little bit hungry."

"Glad I'm not the only one." Coulson exited his office with Clint trailing behind him. "SHIELD food isn't that bad, though I would advise against eating the meatloaf they make as a special on Friday's. I'm not sure what they put in it but I don't think it's actually meat, that stuff is evil."

Clint didn't know if Coulson was joking or being serious so he kept his mouth shut and didn't comment. He'd eaten some pretty bad food in his life, from what he'd experienced of SHIELD food so far it wasn't as bad as Coulson made it out to be.

They entered the mess hall at the tail end of the lunch rush so it wasn't too long before they were able to get their food, find a table and start eating. Coulson sat at the same table as Clint who let it go as he knew from prior experience any attempt to move Coulson was doomed to fail. He decided that sitting at the same table didn't mean he had to talk to him though and so he ignored Coulson completely, instead focusing on the activity in the cafeteria.

That fact was the reason he saw the small Asian woman walk into the room like she owned the place before Coulson did. Her body language immediately set off alarm bells in Clint's brain, she moved with the deadly grace of someone who was highly trained and not afraid to show it. She largely reminded him of the way Natasha tended to move when she wasn't hiding the fact she could kill you with a paperclip (she'd even told him just how it was done), she was all lethal grace as well.

The woman collected some food before looking around the crowded room and heading straight towards their table. Clint tensed, ready to fight or run if needed, he already had his escape route planned. Coulson didn't even twitch in his seat, instead nodding to the women as she sat down next to him at their table.

"Welcome back Agent May, Fury told me you would be back today. I haven't seen much of you for the last two months, how are you doing?"

Agent May took a bite of her food, chewed and swallowed before nodding at Coulson.

"I'm good. I've heard rumours you have also been busy these last few months recruiting instead of killing. I don't suppose you'll tell me anything?"

"Sorry May, It's above your clearance level."

The woman nodded, gave Coulson a wink than looked straight at Clint.

"Hallo, I don't believe we've met. I'm Agent Melinda May, tactical leader and level six SHIELD operative. And you are?"

"Clint Barton."

* * *

Melinda blinked at that, momentarily surprised by the name. The last time she'd heard that name had been from Coulson's lips as he'd told her he'd found out the identity of the elusive assassin Hawkeye and was being sent to eliminate him. Seems he'd failed the job. Melinda quickly pulled herself together and looked straight at the assassin.

"Well Barton, what have you been bought into SHIELD for?"

"To work as a long distance operative."

"Sniper-assassin." Melinda nodded to herself; that made sense given his skills, he was good. She knew that from spending the last few months putting up with Coulson's whining about not being able to find out anything concrete on Hawkeye. "Coulson bring you in?"

The assassin nodded.

"Yes."

Melinda took another bite of food as she gave the boy a good look over, mentally cataloguing what she saw. His blue eyes had a hunted look to them and it hadn't escaped her notice how jumpy he was. He was wearing SHIELD-issued tactical pants and a black t-shirt that showed off arms that sported muscles that spoke of hard work, and not all of it in the gym. They were in fact very attractive arms.

Melinda knew she was intimidating and people were often scared of her but noticed her presence didn't seem to bother him much. Interesting, he either wasn't worried about her or was good at hiding it. He wasn't very tall and had dark blonde hair; SHIELD obviously hadn't gotten around to making him cut his hair yet as it was long enough that it hung down covering his ears and flopping across his eyes. He had an air of quiet menace about him that left no doubt he was deadly at what he did.

He was young though. Honestly he couldn't have been older than twenty-five and that was being generous; Melinda suspected he was probably closer to twenty or even younger. He was just a kid, a kid who had obviously been through a lot in his life, but a kid just the same. Melinda wondered when they'd started recruiting children to SHIELD and resolved to ask Coulson exactly what had happened at a later date. Last she'd known he'd been falling head-over-heels to kill this kid.

Melinda finished her lunch and spoke to Phil.

"I've got debriefs all afternoon but would you be interested in catching up tonight? I should be finished by seven. My quarters?"

"Do you have...?"

"Yes." Melinda grinned to herself, she knew Coulson loved the scotch she kept locked in a biometric safe in her room. No one touched her scotch without her permission if they valued their life.

"In that case I'll see you than Agent May."

"Will do sir, looking forward to it."

Yes, Melinda was looking very forward to finding out what had happened. A pity she had hours of debriefs to sit through first, she was definitely going to need that alcohol later.

* * *

Phil knocked on the door to May's living quarters. She had moved out of standard issue rooms a few months back when she'd made a level six and into a three bedroom suite which she shared with two other girls. Shelley Hardison, who was still out and wouldn't be in for a few days, and Paris Macmillan, another level six operative who was out on a mission at the moment, The latter tended to work a lot undercover and wasn't often at base. Phil was happy about that; it meant they could talk in peace without fear of being overheard. They could have gone to his quarters if it came to that but May's room had the scotch.

May opened the door almost immediately and smiled at Phil.

"Come on in, I've already opened the scotch. I needed it after all those debriefings."

They didn't talk much until they were both settled on the couch with glasses of scotch. It was then that Melinda turned on Phil.

"What the heck happened? Last I hear you wanted to kill Clint Barton, how come he's now in SHIELD? I presume he is the infamous assassin Hawkeye? Do you know what they say on the streets about him?"

The conversation had barely started and already Phil was wishing for something stronger than the scotch. Vodka maybe.

"Yes, he is the assassin Hawkeye and yes, I have heard what people have to say about him. This is technically above your clearance level but I know you won't tell anyone so I'll give you a basic rundown. I know Fury won't mind."

"You know how I was sent to Tokyo to eliminate him?"

Melinda sipped her drink and nodded.

"Yes, I didn't know it was Tokyo but I know Hawkeye was near the top of our most wanted list and you were really keen to take him out. So you went to eliminate him on Director Fury's orders."

"Correct."

"So what went wrong?"

"He managed to get away from us despite being injured and outnumbered. I saw him doing acrobatics over blooming _rooftops_ May, he was running across those roofs faster than my agents on the street could move! Despite having a concussion and multiple minor injuries at the time he easily outclassed them all."

"When he managed to get away from us I started to have doubts about killing him. Just think of what he could do on our side May! After thinking it over for a few days I approached Fury about turning the elimination order into a recruitment offer, which he agreed to do with a bit of persuasion. So I've spent the last month in Paris tracking him from there, I finally found him and offered him a chance to join us which he later accepted."

Melinda nodded as she stared into her half empty glass.

"Okay, you wanted to use his skills. What else influenced your change of mind? I know you Phil; your reactions to this kid aren't your normal ones, especially given how you were acting before you found out who he was. You've brought heaps of people into SHIELD before, me included. You've also taken out people before without any problems. What's so different about this one? And don't try to deny it Phil; lying doesn't suit you when you're not convinced yourself that what you are saying is the truth."

Phil run his hand through his dark hair and slumped in his chair.

"He was so lost Melinda, one look at the hunted, hopeless look in his eyes and all I wanted to do was protect him and not let anyone hurt him ever again. Maybe I saw something of myself in him and wanted to give him a chance, I'm not really sure. I just didn't feel right with killing him, I felt like I would be committing murder, not eliminating a threat to world security. You said it yourself; you know me May, we've known each other for several years now and you know I don't have a problem with killing when it is deserved. I honestly think Barton deserves more than a bullet to the head. SHIELD can give him something better."

Melinda listened without interrupting and looked thoughtful.

"And is he going to make a good asset?"

"Hard to tell at this stage, this is only his second full day here and though he's already broken every record in SHIELD involving accuracy with shooting we are still evaluating his other skills. He doesn't have much education for a start so he has to get a GED, though he can thankfully read which makes the job a bit easier. There are other problems which we are sorting through, it's taking a bit of effort but we are getting there. Then there are his trust issues, I don't even know how to start addressing them. Fury dumped him on me as punishment for bringing him in so he is my problem for the time being."

Melinda finished her scotch and decided against another glass as she'd already had one before Phil arrived. She wanted to be functional in the morning, the reason she tried not to over-indulge when she drank alcohol, which wasn't always an easy thing to do given her stressful job.

"I noticed in the cafeteria he looked like one wrong move would send him bolting for the nearest exit or have him fighting to the death. It's not like that's to unusual Phil, more than one person I've met since joining SHIELD is like that."

"Not this bad they aren't. He absolutely trusts no one; trust doesn't seem to be in him. I..."

May held up her hand.

"Hang on Phil, how many days did you say the kid has been here?"

That made Phil feel slightly foolish as he actually stopped and considered it.

"Two days and two nights."

May nodded in satisfaction.

"There you go, you are totally over-reacting. Wait until he'd been here two years before you start with those thoughts Phil. Who knows what he'd been through and what people have done to him. He probably just needs time and space."

Phil looked very sheepish.

"That's exactly what Dr Kalman told me."

"You should take his advice, as much as I hate to admit it the man knows what he's talking about."

May suddenly gave an enormous yawn which surprised them both. Glancing at his watch Phil cursed.

"Is that really the time? I didn't realise it was so late. Sorry May, you probably want to sleep after that mission."

"I'm not that tired." May gracefully stood up and deposited her empty glass on the sink of the small kitchenette, standing Coulson's beside it. "I think you could do with some shut-eye though so if you are finished talking might I suggest you go and get some sleep?"

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Night May."

"Good night Phil, and don't worry so much. I am sure with time everything will work out with Barton. You just need to apply your legendary patience. If any person in the world can do this Phil, that person is you."

* * *

 **End of chapter 2.**

* * *

 **There you have it. May's finally on the scene after only being mentioned a couple of times before. I'll let you know in advance that this version of May is going to be OOC from Agents of SHIELD Melinda May. Coulson states himself in one episode that May used to be very different and laugh a lot more so given this in the late 90's, over a decade before the Agents of SHIELD pilot, I've gone with that idea. That's the only big difference, she's still a kick-ass agent who is very good at what she does, and is also single.**

 **You still don't want to get on her bad side either, it won't end well for you if you do and chances are no one will help you.**

 **Next chapter:**

 **Chapter 3: Training, Trouble and Debts**

 **If you liked this please or have any questions about anything please leave a comment. Like last time, I will reply to all who sign in to comment.**

 **See you next week!**


	3. Training, Trouble and Debts

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **Welcome to the next instalment in our journey with Clint!**

 **Before I go on a shout of thanks goes to my two reviews for last week's chapter, Batghost and Armand!**

 _ **Armand: Thankyou for your comment regarding May! She was great fun to write and plays a very big part in this story a little later on. It's a shame that Fanfiction wouldn't let me list her as a character. She must come under the Agents of SHIELD fandom tag, not the Avengers tag.**_

 **As always, this story would not be what it is without the tireless input of jaguarspot. Any mistakes that are picked up are mine.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Never go backward. Attempt, and do it with all your might. Determination is power. _Charles Simmons_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Training, Trouble and Debts**

Clint arrived at the appointed training room at two minutes to eight the next morning to find a crowd of agents had already gathered there. He didn't recognise any of them except May, the woman he'd met yesterday in the cafeteria, she was talking with two other agents and Clint found himself staring at those shapely black yoga pant clad thighs for a few seconds before he realised what he was doing and quickly averted his gaze before anyone noticed. Instead of talking to anyone he stood slightly apart from the group as his eyes mapped out the gym. He's seen it when Coulson had shown it to him on his first day here but hadn't had an opportunity to have a really good look at it since then.

The first thing he noticed was the colour scheme. Like most of the SHIELD base seemed to be the gym was black and grey with the eagle motif painted on the back wall. It was huge, bigger than the weapons range had been, and was divided into several sections. One contained sparing mats and benches, another held at least two dozen punching bags, and yet another area contained push-up benches. The wall at the far end sported a huge rock climbing wall, bigger than any Clint had ever seen, either inside a building or outside. A room located just off the main gym area had ropes, ladders and other paraphernalia hanging from the roof to practice climbing on, a huge industrial size net swung above the floor to satisfy safety protocols.

At eight on the dot a huge man entered the gym and came over to the group, many of whom greeted him warmly.

"Hallo Sunny."

Okay, so Goliaths real name was Sunny, seriously what sort of a name was that? Clint observed the man while trying not to be too obvious as he took in his appearance.

Sunny was easily over six foot tall, probably closer to seven, and as far as Clint could tell his bulk was all muscle, the guy looked like a champion wrestler or boxer. His hair was gingery and his eyes were a clear green. In spite of how intimidating his appearance was Clint noticed there was a gentleness about him that seemed out of place with someone who looked like they could defeat an army single-handed without breaking a sweat.

Sunny looked around at the dozen or so agents who had gathered before he started talking in a voice that was incredibly low and soft for such a giant of a man, Clint would have expected him to have a booming voice that carried all over the base, like the circus strongman. You had often been able to hear his voice on the other side of the camp he was so loud and his laugh could almost be heard the next town over. The soft tone from Sunny was a surprise and actually made Clint blink a couple of times before he put his mind back on the job at hand.

"Morning everyone. As most of you know Shelley won't be back at base until tomorrow at the earliest so I will continue to supervise your training until then. That being the case we won't be doing sparing today, I'll leave that to Shelley as it's her speciality. However, we do have a full morning planned starting with the punching bags. Make it snappy people, we don't have all day."

* * *

Clint collapsed on a bench and breaking the seal on a bottle of water thankfully drunk the cool liquid in greedy gulps. He hadn't realised how unfit he was, he knew the muscles in his upper body were strong but he felt like he'd been through the ringer already and they'd only been at this for an hour and a half.

After the punching bag workout, which had been brutal enough in its own right, Sunny had made them all work on the push-up benches until all Clint's muscles felt like they were on fire. Sunny had proved to be a hard taskmaster, if he saw anyone not trying hard enough or slacking off he'd chewed them out and threaten to add more time to their routines if they didn't improve. Clint had had some trouble keeping up due to his muscles not being used to it all, Sunny hadn't been as brutal with him and hadn't pushed him at the same pace as he had the others but made it clear that didn't mean Clint could slack off.

As Clint wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel he felt someone sit down next to him and automatically stiffened as he lowered the towel slowly, ready to leap into defence mode if he had to as he took a good look at the person sitting next to him.

Agent Melinda May finished her bottle of water and looked over at Clint.

"How are you holding up Barton? I noticed you were struggling at the pace Sunny set; you're obviously not used to this sort of exercise?"

Clint hadn't noticed May watching him, he'd been too busy trying to keep up and not pant too much. That she'd seen him and correctly interpreted his actions was impressive. Clint would normally have said something to deflect the question but he was too tired to think too much at this point so instead he nodded.

"Yeh, haven't had a work out this intensive since the army."

Clint suddenly realised what he'd said and clammed up, shutting May out and making sure all his defences were firmly back in place. May didn't seem to notice the change in attitude, instead nodding thoughtfully as she looked across the room at Sunny.

"I understand, Sunny sets a punishing pace but boy do you get fit. After working out with Sunny no matter what physical obstacles a mission throws at me I can deal with it, nine times out of ten it's less punishing than Sunny is. He usually works at the Academy beating new recruits into shape; I'm not sure why he's on base at the moment. You heard anything about it; you've been here a couple of days haven't you?"

Clint only shrugged.

"I wasn't even aware that SHIELD existed three weeks ago and only found out they had an Academy three days ago. I have no idea what it does."

"I see. Well it's for agent training; there are actually three separate Academies. I went to the Academy of Operations for a while after Coulson brought me into SHIELD. It trains field agents and specialists, the other two are for science geeks and communications specialists. It was really hard work but good fun; you wouldn't believe some of the things they train you for until you actually are doing them. I came out of there knowing a lot more than I did when I went in."

Clint listened with interest as he finished his bottle of water. May looked up just then and saw Sunny heading towards them.

"Looks like our break is just about up, I believe running is up next which means we'll probably be going outside. See you around Barton."

May was the first person to actually go out of their way to talk to Clint, and against his will he kind of liked her for that. In spite of his lone wolf front he'd used to enjoy other people's company, he just never seemed to fit into a regular group. So instead of ignoring May like he was inclined to do to other people he nodded once.

"See you around."

* * *

Clint hissed in pain as he stretched his cramped muscles. He'd been sitting here with Coulson for over two hours, working through what he would need to know to pass the GED exams. Sitting still for that long when he wasn't used to it, combined with the intense physical exercise session that he'd survived this morning, plus the two hours spent at the range afterwards working with guns and pistols, had resulted in a bad case of muscle cramp, the worst he'd had in years. Clint was hesitant about revealing how cramped his muscles were in front of Coulson but the older man didn't seem to notice Clint's stretching, too engrossed in the report or whatever it was he was reading to look over.

Thankfully they were finished studying for today. They weren't studying for the full time allocated on Clint's schedule as Coulson had informed him when he showed up at one-thirty on the dot (it didn't hurt to be on time sometimes) that he'd scheduled a hearing exam for him with one of their specialists so they would do that before moving onto studying. Clint was actually quite proud that he had managed not to kill the hearing doctor in spite of her looking closely at his ears, touching them and asking him endless questions about his hearing in general. He'd put up with it only because they were trying to help him and he would love to be able to hear properly again. Allowing SHIELD to design new hearing aids was probably the closest he was ever going to get to proper hearing.

Clint didn't complain about the huge amount of work he had to do to get ready for the GED, complaining never got him anywhere, and besides the studying wasn't too bad. Clint enjoyed learning new things and despite what he'd missed with book work during his years in the orphanages and at the circus he found it fairly easy to keep up with Coulson. That surprised him somewhat as he'd never thought of himself as being very intelligent, school as he remembered it had always been boring and he'd never fitted in with the other kids. Working with Coulson for the GED exams hadn't been boring yet.

With this thought Clint looked across the table at his tutor. A separate desk had been moved into Coulson's office so no one would disturb them while Clint studied and so Coulson could continue to do his own work at the same time. Coulson wasn't stretching; if fact he didn't seem to be at all uncomfortable considering the length of time they'd been sitting here. Was the guy even human? Coulson must have felt his gaze just then because he looked up and smiled over at Clint.

"All done?"

Clint nodded as he stacked the books he'd used into piles.

"Yes, I did everything you wanted."

"Good, I'll check it all in a minute. You have free time now to do what you like within reason, don't do anything stupid."

Clint suppressed an eye-roll, why did everyone feel they had to say that to him? Keeping his expression carefully blank he simply nodded. There wasn't much chance of him getting into trouble at the moment. All he currently wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for years, he was totally exhausted. His brain felt like it was made of cotton wool and he ached all over. He didn't say any of this to Coulson; instead once he'd finished packing away the pencils and other stationary supplies he'd used he said bye to Coulson, who nodded absently and didn't look up from his notebook. Clint headed back to his room to at least rest for a while before he had to go to dinner.

* * *

"He's smart then?"

"He is very smart director, so smart I have to hurry to keep up with him on his train of thought sometimes or he'll leave me behind. His memory for facts is astounding, he read a page a few times and could remember everything on it and dictate it back to me almost word perfect. I want an IQ test as soon as it is possible; he has to be above average."

Fury nodded thoughtfully.

"It wouldn't surprise me, that kid isn't stupid by any means. How did his hearing test go? I'm surprised he actually let you talk him into it, he was very defensive about his hearing when we spoke about it in the prison."

"I think common sense won over there, I have a feeling that his don't-care attitude is all a front to mask his real emotions and feelings. From observing him during that conversation I think he really hates them and will try anything to be able to hear without them. He even admitted to the right one often malfunctioning and to the fact they're inclined to hurt his ears. He didn't actually say anything but I have a feeling he's landed in more than one sticky situation because of glitches in his hearing aids."

Fury nodded thoughtfully.

"That would certainly make sense, especially giving the fact he was caught by average cops in Spain when they weren't even looking out for him after he'd successfully avoided our searches for months. What did the doctor say about the chances of fixing his hearing permanently at this point? Is that a viable possibility so he wouldn't have to use aides?"

Coulson sighed wearily as he run a hand through his hair. Fury patiently waited for his agent to speak, it was obvious that sorting out Barton and his problems was wearing his best agent out.

"Operations or implants might be an option for him in the future, heck they might even be an option now depending on the level of damage there is, but I'm not even going to breach the subject with him at this point. There is no way anything could be done without an operation, and that isn't going to happen any time soon. He doesn't trust people when they're all the way across the room where he can watch them, there's no way he's going to let us knock him out and operate with him at our complete mercy. I kind of want to remain alive and mobile for as long as possible so I wouldn't dare to even suggest it to him just yet and maybe not for a long time."

Fury smirked.

"I can see how that could be...problematic, to put it mildly. How did the general training session go this morning? Sunny say anything to you about him?"

"Yes, I went and saw him afterwards. He told me in spite of struggling to keep up with the other agents at certain points Barton persevered without once breaking stride or thinking about giving up, his general fitness level isn't that great yet but Sunny said a few weeks of steady training, especially given his obvious determination, will make all the difference."

Fury simply nodded at that.

"I see. Medical cleared Barton yet?"

"He has another examination scheduled for tomorrow; I think he will be allowed to spar after that. I'm really looking forward to finding out what he knows in that department, he has a foundation from the military and I'll be surprised if he hasn't picked up a few things over the last two years given the nature of his profession."

"That certainly would make sense. How's the bow coming along?"

Phil grinned widely at that.

"Really good apparently, it should be here tomorrow or the day after at the latest. Wilkinson told me he managed to find an industrial grade bow, it's not a toy, it's a real weapon. I think he's developed a bit of a soft spot for Barton; he was amazed with his shooting prowess when we tested him on guns. Have you seen him shoot Nick? He's amazing."

Fury had in fact secretly watched footage of Barton on the shooting range and to say he was impressed was a bit of an understatement. The shooting scores in his military file hadn't accurately described his skills, they were totally unreal. Fury was looking forward to seeing him with a bow since it was his preferred weapon and the one he was best known for.

"Any ideas where his own bow went? Has he said anything about it to you?"

Coulson shook his head as he made an exasperated face.

"No, I have asked him about it but he clams up and ignores me and the question or gives a snarky non-answer. He's very close-mouthed regarding anything to do with his past. I don't think I've ever seen so many one word answers on intake paperwork. He manages to answer the question and tell you nothing personal at the same time, I don't know how that is even possible but he does it. With training he'll likely be a great spy, he is remarkably good at deflecting answers away from the true question being asked and has a natural talent for being able to blend into a situation. Most spies have to be taught to be inconspicuous but it seems to be a natural skill of his. It's actually kind of sad that he is so good at being invisible, he's obviously had lots of practice and it shows."

Fury didn't disagree with that last statement but didn't say anything; he just filed the information away in his brain to think over later. Focusing on the first part of the sentence Fury gave Coulson a bland look.

"We don't need him to be a spy; we need him to be a sniper. That's what we brought him in for Coulson, long-distance assassination work; we already have plenty of spies. When he's trained there won't be any time for him to play spy games even if he wanted to, he'll be too busy working as a long distance operative for that."

Phil just shrugged.

"We'll just have to see what happens, but I do think we should keep an open mind on this. I believe we've got a rough diamond here that needs careful care before it can properly shine."

That was a rather good way to describe Barton, Fury thought. A little while later after Phil had left Fury stared at the door for a long time, lost in his own thoughts as he mused over what Phil had said.

Finally Fury nodded to himself and spoke softly in spite of there being no one around to hear him.

"So I'm not the only one who thinks Barton has more potential and skills than he lets on or possibly even realises himself."

Fury wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, only time would give him the answer to that particular question.

* * *

The next morning Clint was allowed to leave physical training half-an-hour early to attend a medical appointment. The doctors were delighted with how well he was healing and finally cleared him to spar. Clint didn't feel as tired today after training as he had yesterday for which he was very grateful, this morning's workout hadn't seemed to be as hard. May had been there again and had spoken to him briefly like she had yesterday; everyone else had pretty much ignored him which suited him just fine.

Clint walked onto the range to see Coulson was there talking with Wilkinson who looked very excited. As soon as he saw Clint Wilkinson waved him over, a big grin on his face.

"Ah, just the person I wanted to see. Come over here Barton, something arrived this morning that I think you'll find very interesting."

Wilkinson gestured to a large, open black box that was sitting on the table. Coulson was watching with a stoic expression but a gleam in his eye, whether it was amusement from Wilkinson's enthusiasm or something else that had put it there Clint didn't know but he humoured the agents and came close enough to peer into the box. What he saw there made him freeze and his breathe caught in his throat.

Sitting inside, nestled in a generous amount of padding, was a bow. Not just any old bow, this one was possibly the sleekest and most stunning looking bow Clint had ever seen, it left his own bow miles behind and was light years away from the one he'd used back when he was in the circus. Clint just stood there staring for what seemed like forever, he was almost afraid to touch it, afraid that this beautiful bow couldn't possibly be meant for him despite there being no other reason for it to be here. He wasn't paying much attention to the other people in the room until Wilkinson cleared his throat to get his attention. Reluctantly Clint managed to tear his eyes away from the bow and look up.

"Well, are you going to try it out or what? You said you wanted a bow so I got you a bow; no one else around here is going to use it so go ahead and try it, it's all yours. Let's see what you can do with it."

Clint reverently picked the bow up, running his hands all over it, noticing its strength and the way is sat in his hand. It wasn't custom made like his own bow was and because of his left-handed archery the grip felt funny but it was still heaps more comfortable than his circus bows had been. Clint slowly pulled back on the string, testing it. It was about the same draw weight as his own bow but it felt more powerful, though that might have something to do with him not having used a bow for over a week. His muscles were a bit out of practice as a result but thankfully he hadn't lost much of the strength he'd previously built up.

Clint slowly and carefully released the string, being careful not to dry fire it, and took the quiver of arrows Coulson held out. The quiver was black like the bow but as far as Clint could see there wasn't anything particularly special about it. The arrows were fairly generic hunting ones, long, straight shafts with small narrow heads so as to cause the lease amount of damage to the animal's hide as possible.

Wilkinson had watched him handle the bow with a sharp gaze and now asked eagerly.

"Do you like it?"

In answer Clint carefully selected an arrow, notched it and suddenly turned around on his heel, aimed for the target that was the furthest away from the door and let go of the string. The arrow flew straight were Clint had intended it to and landed in the middle of the bullseye of the target located a good forty-five metres away from where they were standing. Coulson and Wilkinson both stood there in stunned silence as Clint turned back to them and nodded.

"Yeh, I like it."

Wilkinson blinked.

"Do that again?"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Phil and Wilkinson were leaning against the wall in the shooting range; both watching in slack jawed awe as Barton fired ten arrows faster than the average human in the establishment could fire ten bullets, and hit his mark _every single time_. His boasts about his aim and the reports on his shooting scores now began to look even more woefully inaccurate in light of the evidence in front of them; the kid's accuracy really was off every single chart that existed. Phil had wondered about the never miss part and even after seeing his accuracy with guns had still had doubts he could be better than that; he now had no doubts on the matter. Barton was simply that good a shot.

Watching him empty his quiver for the fifth time, Phil decided he'd have to see about getting him more arrows, he'd have to put in a special order this once and see that it was added to the regular order so there would always be plenty of arrows on base. Normally an agent's primary handler would see to that but as of yet Barton didn't have one and as he was currently Phil's responsibility and not in the general pool of agents it was up to him to see Barton had everything he needed.

Phil watched Barton closely as he collected his arrows and started again. The kid was left handed when it came to archery which was interesting as he'd written with his right. Phil filed that information away in his brain for now, intending to ask Barton about it later. Glancing at Wilkinson, Phil was amused to see the still glassy eyes and open mouth, the range master was absolutely speechless. Phil wasn't as surprised, he'd read the army files even if he'd never seen the boy do archery, his accuracy with guns was amazing enough, but _this_ was something else entirely. It was almost like dancing, the graceful way Barton did archery. For the first time since Phil had met the kid he seemed truly happy and relaxed as he fired arrow after arrow, hitting his mark every time.

Just then the door to the shooting range opened quietly and Boyd slipped in. Phil bet he knew why he was here; the rumours about Hawkeye had gone around the base like wildfire, even if the true story remained somewhat hazy. As he'd been part of the team that had originally been sent to eliminate the archer in Tokyo it wasn't that surprising Boyd would now want to know what had happened to change that order.

Boyd had been off on another assignment since then and judging by his rumpled appearance had just gotten back to base and hadn't even been to his room yet, wanting to see the subject of most of the current rumours for himself. Spying Phil and the still awe struck Wilkinson standing there Boyd smiled and started walked over to him before he spied Clint, stopped, and simply stared. He just stood there staring for a few minutes before his legs carried him over to where Coulson was standing and he finally found his voice after a few more minutes of open-mouthed silence.

"Who's that?"

Phil just grinned.

"We've acquired an archer. That there is Clint Barton."

Boyd opened and shut his mouth a few times before words finally came out.

"I can see that much Phil, how did it happen? Last I knew you were supposed to kill him, heck I was part of the team that _tried_ to."

Wilkinson blinked at that and tore his gaze away from Barton for the first time since he'd started shooting to look at the other two men, specifically at Phil.

"Did you really try to kill him? I didn't know that but I'm glad you didn't. Kill him I mean. The kid is already off the charts with conventional firearms and he's even better with a bow. I have never seen marksmanship like his; it is a rare and beautiful thing."

Phil answered them both.

"After seeing him in action I decided killing him would be a waste. As you can both see and Wilkinson pointed out he's got incredible skills. Fury agreed with me and so we brought him in instead of killing him."

Boyd just shook his head in wonder as the archer made a star pattern on the target with arrows, his accuracy never wavering.

"I can see why now. If that sort of accuracy showed up in any recruits training for the FBI, CIA or pretty much any other alphabet agency SHIELD would do everything in their power to convince that person to join them. What did you say his name was again?"

"Clint Barton."

"Clint Barton, right, thanks. So Coulson, how exactly did you convince Barton to join us? I hope you didn't shoot him again."

Wilkinson blinked again, horror clearly visible on his face.

"You _shot_ him?"

Phil was starting to feel uncomfortable with Wilkinson's reaction which was most unusual for him; his reputation of being unflappable was legendary. As he'd said to Fury yesterday, Wilkinson had really taken a shine to Barton.

"Yes I did, thought in my own defence it was before we decided to bring him on board as an asset. You are supposed to shoot your target when it's a kill mission so I wasn't doing anything wrong at the time."

Just then the subject of their conversation turned towards them, stiffening when he saw Boyd. Boyd just waved lazily at him as Phil beckoned Clint over. The boy looked questioningly at the arrows still in the targets, so Phil called to him.

"It'll be fine for a few minutes Barton. I would like you to come over and meet a good friend of mine."

* * *

As Clint finished firing the last of the arrows in his quiver he felt calmer and more focussed than he had in weeks. Gosh how he'd missed archery; it was his lifeline and safety net, he didn't have to think while he was doing it. Turning around to see what Coulson and Wilkinson were doing Clint saw the third man standing with them and all his survival instincts immediately kicked in, the calm from the archery practice disappeared and was immediately replaced with wariness as he sized the third man up.

He was of average height and weight with fair hair and tanned skin, suggesting he spent a lot of time in sunny places. When he saw Clint looking at him he waved at him as Coulson beckoned him over.

Clint glanced at the arrows; he always packed them up straight away after a practice, a habit drilled into him by the circus. At Coulson's reassurance Clint walked slowly towards the three men, watching the newcomer warily, even though nothing bad had happened here so far Clint wasn't about to take any chances as this still seemed to good to be true.

Coulson simply grinned at him before introducing the third man.

"Agent Thomas Boyd, one of our best field technicians and absolute technological wizard. Boyd, this is Clint Barton, professional archer, sniper and now Probationary Agent with SHIELD."

Clint couldn't help but feel slightly proud at hearing that. Probationary Agent, it sounded grand, even though the probationary bit was sitting in front. Looking Boyd up and down he finally spoke.

"Hallo."

Boyd looked at the arrows sticking out of the targets and then back at him with an expression of pure wonder on his face.

"Recruit Barton, you are a shot the likes of which I have never seen before in my life. Even the best snipers in the army couldn't have made those shots you just did with a rifle and you made them with a bow. _A bow_! It was truly incredible; I wish I could shoot like that."

It took a lot of will power not to flinch as soon as he heard the man's voice. He'd been one of the agents that he'd encountered in Tokyo when Coulson had initially shot him. Of that Clint was sure, he remembered those three voices he'd heard while hidden in the rubbish bin all too well. You tended to remember those who tried to kill you and though Coulson and his friends hadn't actually succeeded in doing that it had been a close thing. It wasn't quite the closest Clint had ever been to death, he'd been in more dire situations than that one. But his life had undoubtedly been in immediate danger if they'd discovered him.

In spite of all that Clint looked at the twinkle in the man's brown eyes and the warm, genuine looking smile on his face and felt himself warming slightly towards him, there was an openness about this man that he hadn't found in any other agent he'd met so far. Then he clamped that thought down, opening up to anyone was dangerous, doubly so in this instance, so instead he just nodded again.

"Thanks."

"I'm not just saying it to be nice Barton, it's the truth. What I saw of your shooting just now was incredible; we are truly privileged to have you with us. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Clint shrugged, not saying anything as he looked away. Boyd wisely didn't push the issue, instead turning to Coulson again.

"I'd best be going to get some rest Phil, keeping track of a bunch of agents and trying to stop them from getting killed or killing each other is exhausting work."

At that Wilkinson gave a short bark of laughter, and Phil grinned.

"I thought that was the handler's job?"

"Poor Intel." Boyd sighed. "There was a back-up alarm we weren't aware of, we managed to complete the mission in the end and none of us died but it certainly wasn't the easiest mission I've ever done."

"Okay, I'll see you around later then Boyd. Go and get some rest now, you look like you could use some shut eye."

"Believe me I feel the same way. See you later Wilkinson, Barton."

Boyd left, and Clint started collecting his arrows with Coulson's help, Clint told him to always pull them out with a hand as close to the arrowhead as possible to prevent bending and breaking the shafts. As they pulled arrows out of the targets Coulson spoke in a conversational tone.

"You learnt to shoot like that in the circus right? It's my understanding you even had your own act 'The Amazing Hawkeye'. What happened to cause you to leave them?"

Clint's stomach turned to lead at the question; he didn't need a reminder of why he'd left the circus and what had happened before that. Not answering Coulson would more than likely make the man more determined to find out the truth and Clint didn't want that part of his life dug up if the Agent went looking, there was too much he didn't want known.

Especially when that information could land him back in prison on death row if it ever became public knowledge. Clint intended to carry those secrets to the grave with him.

"Shooting straight was a matter of survival and I learnt my lessons well. I grew fed up with the circus eventually and wanted a change so I decided to try the military."

Clint watched in satisfaction as Coulson's expression changed for a second before morphing back into a bland mask. So, the famous Phil Coulson _could_ be ruffled despite the rumours he was a robot and therefore that was why he didn't show emotions. Clint could definitely use that bit of information.

"I see."

Coulson didn't say anymore on the subject and Clint counted that as a win for now. As he came back with all the arrows Wilkinson met them.

"Barton, you can have another fifteen minutes with the bow before we start your firearms training, now that we have it we'll work the bow into your regular schedule. Agent Coulson, are you going to stay or do you have work to do?"

Clint couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when Coulson shook his head.

"No, I'll be leaving. Make sure you're not late for your lessons Barton, In spite of having a new toy I still want to see you in my office at one-thirty sharp. See you later Wilkinson."

Coulson left and Clint again lost himself in the repetition of archery practice. All too soon Wilkinson stated the fifteen minutes were up and it was time to get down to firearms training. Clint reverently laid the bow back in its box, stroking it in appreciation until Wilkinson's chuckle made him turn and look at the other man with a raised eyebrow.

"She is a beauty isn't she? I must say I'm quite jealous, not that I've ever shot a bow in my life, it is an unusual weapon of choice to say the least. R&D wants to play with it and see about making it more customised to you. I noticed you did archery left-handed, do you always do it that way?"

Clint nodded as he followed Wilkinson to the other table and picked up the sniper rifle he had used the previous day.

"Yes, I always do it left-handed; it's much easier that way. I can use my right as well but my accuracy goes down if I do. When I was learning it was hard as all the bows were made for right-handed people, I had to adjust the bow until I could use it left-handed which wasn't easy."

"I'll make sure your weapons are always tailored to left-handed then. What about guns? I noticed you use the rifle right-handed."

Clint just shrugged as he put the gloves on.

"I'm ambidextrous; I can use any weapon in pretty much either hand. Archery is left-handed but rifles are easier to hold this way. I put that down on my intake form, they seriously had a box that asked you to state what hand you prefer using!"

"That's for practical reasons; we need to know an agent's preferences so weapons and training can be customised for them if necessary. The people I ordered the bow from told me it can be used in either hand but I'm sure the R&D department can improve it so it's solely tailed to your left-hand shooting. Our R&D department does some amazing stuff. Anyway, you ready to beat your scores from yesterday?"

Clint nodded as he put on shooting goggles and picked up the rifle.

"You bet."

* * *

When Clint arrived in Coulson's office a couple of hours later the first thing he noticed was that there was another person there. A tall woman with dark hair which had purple streaks in it was sitting on the couch talking to Coulson. As Clint entered Colson looks up with a smile.

"There you are. Barton this is Agent Malarkey, she's here to give you an IQ test, we do it for everyone who joins us. It shouldn't take long and then we'll get on with your studying."

Clint simply nodded and shrugged.

"Whatever, I'm losing track of how many tests you people are putting me through so what's one more?"

Agent Malarkey smiled at that and gracefully stood up.

"Okay then, let's get started. And please call me Linda; it's much easier to say."

* * *

Late that night just as Phil was falling asleep there came a quiet knock at his door. Groaning Phil rolled over and gazed blearily at the bed side clock, which told him it was after 11pm. As the soft knocking continued Phil grudgingly got up and wrapped himself in his bathrobe. Walking out of his bedroom in a fashion not dissimilar to a zombie he opened the door to reveal a serious looking Nick Fury in all his black leather glory.

Phil was suddenly wide awake.

"What's happened Nick? What's wrong? It isn't like you to make late night social calls in person."

Fury looked serious.

"Can I come in?"

Phil instantly nodded and gestured to the couch in the main area of his suite, Fury sat down and motioned for Phil to do the same. It wasn't until they were both seated that Fury finally spoke.

"It's about Barton. No Phil, the kid isn't in trouble, at least not with me."

Realisation dawned as Phil took in Fury's body language and grim look.

"The council."

Fury scowled darkly and nodded. Dealing with the council always put him in a black mood.

"They've finally got wind that we've recruited Hawkeye instead of eliminating him and there are a lot of people who aren't happy, both national and international members of the council plus other parts of the government. Pierce met with me this afternoon to ask about the details and after I showed him Barton's shooting prowess and potential he's 100% on my side with this, we've neutralised the threat which is what the primary objective was."

"But it wasn't what the orders were."

"Yes, and that is the problem. Good news is they haven't yet ordered us to eliminate him; bad news is they aren't happy and they have a lot of influence. If things get bad Barton could be locked up in solitary confinement for months while they argue over protocol."

Phil was horrified.

"It would kill him, he agreed to come in to have a chance to go straight and do some good in the world, not be locked in a cage for months. We can't lock him up now; I would rather have him out there with a bounty on his head than that. Is there anything you can do Nick?"

Fury sighed.

"Maybe, but it gets worse Phil. Pierce is on my side and we think we can influence two other council members to let Barton stay without too much trouble but remember the General who got Barton kicked out of the army and kick-started this whole mess?"

Phil nodded.

"General Thaddeus Ross, he's an A-grade asshole."

"Agreed, I never liked him. He is also a cousin of one of the council members and for reasons unknown has heavily influenced him concerning the kid. He has Anderson rooted firmly in the belief that the kid is a good-for-nothing loser that needs to be shot. His assassination record doesn't help matters; they are judging him on his past actions and not taking anything else into account."

Phil's head dropped into his hands at that and his voice when he spoke was muffled.

"What the hell have I done? I've made things worse for the kid by bringing him in, they could have him executed."

"Unlikely, but this situation has to be handled with extreme care or he could get a long time behind iron bars. I'll do whatever I have to Phil and Pierce is with me all the way."

Fury noticed the tense lines of his friend's shoulders didn't ease so he continued.

"No one will get their hands near Barton as long as I have a say in the matter. The kid's here because he's got more potential than I've seen in a long time, not because of your moment of weakness. I may have doubted it was the best call to make at the time but now I totally agree that having him on our side is the best thing we can do short of killing him which isn't going to happen. I have the right to recruit whoever I want to recruit within reason, Barton has the potential to be a great asset to SHIELD, and he isn't going anywhere anytime soon if I have a say in it. The government and World Security Council can jolly well like it or I might just go ahead, drop the polite facade and tell them just where they can shove all their bullshit."

Phil looked slightly better at that and nodded gratefully as he finally looked up and met Fury's eye.

"Thanks Nick, you're a good friend. I told the kid if he joined that we would protect him from all his enemies and have his name taken off government kill lists. Any chance of that happening now? I don't want to have lied to him, I didn't realise the Council would react like this."

"It isn't really the council Phil, it's one person on the council who's kicking up all the fuss. Anderson is too young for the position he's in, I thought so at the time but couldn't do much about it. Unfortunately what he says carries a lot of weight with the other members due to his wealthy and influential family. And for some reason he is very close to General Ross."

Phil just sighed.

"Blasted military personnel, there is a reason I never fitted into the army and got into so much trouble, Barton's way too good a marksman and far too creative and free-thinking for them as well. How long is this likely to take Nick?"

"Hopefully not longer than a week, I don't want to drag this on. I think the other council members are slightly pissed that their orders weren't carried out the way they intended them to be but see the sense in what we did. It's Anderson and his blasted cousin that are the problem here."

Phil frowned as a thought occurred to him.

"It's weird that the same general who had Barton discharged from the army also happens to be the close cousin of a WSC member. What are the odds of that happening?"

Fury's look didn't change.

"Believe me I looked into it Phil and everything looks legit. It seems it is just a coincidence, a very strange one but nothing more than that. No skeletons there, and if there were any I'm sure I would have found them."

Fury lent forward and looked intently at his one good eye sitting opposite him.

"We will keep Barton out of their hands Phil; you have my word on it as the Director of SHIELD and as a friend. Besides, I owe you my life and that's one debt I don't treat lightly. Those self-important snobs are going to have to accept that Barton is here, is part of this organisation, and not about to go anywhere without my say-so. And the sooner they do the happier everyone will be as far as I'm concerned. He's here to stay Phil; I'm not letting him go anywhere. He might end up with the ankle bracelet after all but that may be the lesser of two evils if it means they allow him to stay."

* * *

 **End of chapter 3**

* * *

 **A bit of a slow chapter sorry, the next one also is quite slow in terms of action and excitement but after that the momentum picks up and then it's practically non-stop to the end. After chapter 5 is posted I'll be moving my updating schedule to twice a week as I'm nice like that and don't want to leave you on cliff-hangers for to long.**

 **Next up,**

 **Chapter 4: I ain't a hero**

 **If you read this story and are enjoying it please review! I would love to know what you think of Clint's early days with SHIELD in this universe.**


	4. I ain't a hero

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **A big thankyou to all who have reviewed, followed or favourited this week! I thought people might find the last chapter a bit boring but that obviously wasn't the case which was very encouraging.**

 **Reviewers of chapter 3: Batghost, Skeeter20, amy. d. fuller. 9, u. just. got. haxxed and Guest.**

 **I've also been getting reviews and favourites on Shades of Red and Black which has been great. Thankyou to all who have taken the time to do that, it means a lot to me.**

 **This chapter pretty much concludes Clint's first week with SHIELD as the first four chapters take place over six days. The whole story itself covers about five weeks and events start to move very fast starting in the next chapter.**

 **Thanks as always to jaguarspot who reduced the amount of spelling mistakes in this whole story drastically as well as pointing out what didn't make sense.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles. _Christopher Reeve_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: I ain't a hero**

After Fury left him Phil went back to bed but after half-an-hour of tossing and turning he finally gave sleep up as a lost cause and dressed in SHIELD-issued t-shirt and athletic pants before softly slipping out of his room and heading for the nearest gym. He needed to take out his frustrations on something and if he couldn't hit Anderson or Ross without risking everything he'd worked for a punching bag would make a passable substitute.

Phil was the only one who used the small gym located two floors down from the main agent accommodation with any frequency. It wasn't unusual for agents to be awake and training at all hours but this gym was so small and in such an out of the way place that Phil rarely met anyone else in it, most preferred the bigger gyms which had much better equipment to work with and were more conveniently located. Phil liked the solitude however and this gym had a punching bag he could use to let off some steam. Phil wrapped his hands up carefully with tape before he lost himself in the familiar patterns as he vented his frustrations on the hapless bag.

Phil was taking a breather an undetermined amount of time later when the silence of the night was disturbed by the quiet grating of metal and the sound of boots scuffing on tin. Phil looked all around the room before looking up at the ceiling and seeing the metal air vent cover had been removed. As he sat in the shadows watching a lithe figure swung out of the hole and dropped athletically to the floor, it wasn't a very big drop as this gym was only small. The dim light meant he couldn't see who it was from this angle; it wasn't until the vent cover was replaced and the slight figure turned around that Phil recognised him, it was the last person he would have suspected.

Barton.

The boy glanced around the room before his eyes came to rest on where Phil was sitting in shadows. Phil felt that sharp gaze on him and knew despite how still he had been Barton still knew he was there. He waited for Barton to speak first, reasoning that was the best course of action in this scenario as Barton had just as much right to be here as Phil did and there was nothing strange about an agent needing time out. His method of entry was what was strange.

After what seemed like an eternity Barton finally spoke.

"I know you're there Coulson."

"I'd expect nothing less from you and for the record I wasn't trying to hide. Why didn't you use the door?"

"Vents are quicker."

"And dustier."

"They're not that bad, SHIELD has a good ventilation system and the dust doesn't have a chance to settle in one place for very long."

"How do you know that?"

Barton gave him a _dah_ look that made Phil alter his original question.

"How long have you been using the air vents to travel places?"

Barton shrugged and looked away as he answered.

"Since the first night I was here. Your security measures absolutely _suck_."

Phil blinked, honestly surprised though come to think of it he hadn't seen Barton around much in the corridors. Phil mentally berated himself for dismissing the fact Barton never seemed to be around as unimportant.

"What's wrong with the hallways?"

Barton shrugged as he looked at Phil again.

"I prefer the vents. They're less crowded."

Phil sighed in defeat as pieces of a puzzle he hadn't realised he was missing fell into place. Some of the hits they'd attributed to Hawkeye had seemed impossible for an ordinary human to make, even with Barton's superb marksmanship skills Phil still hadn't known how he'd achieved them. Using air vents to travel places actually explained a lot, hotels and other places were highly unlikely to have security cameras and sensors located in their roofs and walls. Using them it would have been easy for Barton to sneak in places. Especially given how good he was at being invisible.

"I hope you haven't been using them to spy on people. You aren't even officially in training yet Barton and SHIELD handles a lot of sensitive information."

Barton's expression, from what Phil could see of it in the dim light anyway, was guiltless.

"What makes you think I would do that?"

Phil gave him a look that had freaked many Agents out over time but Barton just waited with a slight smirk on his face.

"I have my reasons. You here for anything in particular? Most normal people sleep at night."

"I'm not normal and if that is the case around here than apparently you aren't normal either, _sir_."

The way Barton said the _sir_ almost made Phil smile, he knew from personal experience that it took a lot of work to have such a simple word mean the opposite of what it was supposed to and he appreciated Barton's use of it. Though Barton crawling around in the air vents at this time of night instead of sleeping did have him slightly worried.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Phil blinked at the question and realised that Barton was looking intently at him with that piercing gaze of his; he didn't seem the least surprised or fazed to see Phil down here. You would almost think it was a regular occurrence which was even more worrying to Phil.

"Obviously you couldn't either?"

Barton just shrugged and didn't answer Phil's question. Instead he turned towards the door.

"Guess I'll be going. See you around."

"Wait."

The sound of Phil's voice stopped the kid in his tracks and he turned around to face Phil with a raised eyebrow.

"Why?"

"What did you come here for? I highly doubt it was to see me, you didn't even know I was here, did you?"

Barton shook his head.

"No, I didn't. I'll go to one of the other gyms, it's no big deal."

Up close Phil could see the dark shadows lying under the boys' eyes and the hunted look in them that he was all too familiar with. Tonight however there was barely concealed fear and pain lurking in them as well that in Phil's experience bespoke of nightmares. He bet Barton had plenty of material to draw on and probably hadn't been getting much sleep the last few nights because of how different everything was. Come to think of it the boy had been very quiet the last few days but Phil had thought that was due to how strange everything was. Now he wondered if it was because he was exhausted from lack of sleep.

Either way, Phil suddenly felt the last thing he should do tonight was leave the kid to deal with the terror of his past and uncertainty of his future alone. After his conversation with Fury having some company might do him good as well, even if that company was the very man they were fighting to protect.

"You don't have to, you can stay here. In fact, if you are up to it, would you like to spar? I know medical cleared you this morning and you are going to start training tomorrow with all the others but I would like to see what you know first and I have time now. Plus, no one is going to disturb us at this time of night."

"Morning you mean."

Phil blinked as he looked closely at his watch.

"It is morning too, sorry, my mistake. Would you like to spar Barton? I promise to go easy on you."

That hint of a challenge brought something out of Barton that Phil hadn't seen before and he nodded, eyes gleaming in the faint light.

"Okay, I can't promise to go easy on you though, _Coulson_."

Phil smiled at the clear challenge issued in the kids' voice. It was a nice change to the moody silence.

"You're on."

* * *

Phil watched Clint very carefully as they faced each other and he told him the rules.

"Okay, we'll just get a feel of each other to begin with, so anything that won't result in my death or serious injury goes as long as it isn't biting, we're not fighting dirty here. When I say 'go' we will start."

"When I win what's my reward?"

The question came out of left field and for a moment Phil was speechless but quickly recovered and responded to the challenge.

"If you win I'll buy you a cupcake, if I win you have to buy me one. How does that sound?"

The kid hesitated at that and lost some of his cocky confidence.

"Where? The cafeteria doesn't do cupcakes."

"Off base, there's a nice bakery located about a fifteen minute walk away that SHIELD agents use a lot. They have really good cakes and decent coffee."

Phil knew he'd said something wrong judging by the reaction from the teen but couldn't for the life of him think what it was.

His answer came a moment later, spoken in a very soft tone.

"I don't have any money."

Ah, a bit slow there Phil. Of course that would worry the kid; he clearly knew the value of money.

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew. You've been earning money every single day you've been here and in a few days you'll receive your first pay check. I just assumed you knew that and obviously you didn't. I'm sorry."

Clint blinked as that, he hadn't had a regular pay since the army and even then he hadn't received much of it in hand, instead electing to have a fair amount automatically go into a savings accounts which as far as he knew no longer existed, the army having confiscated it when he was reported KIA.

"I'm going to be paid in a few days? But I haven't done anything for you guys yet!"

"That doesn't matter, you agreed to join us and your pay starts from the moment you signed the form. It isn't anywhere near what a full agent earns but it is enough to buy me a cup cake."

"If you win that is."

Like that the kid had his cocky confidence back and his blue eyes met Phil's brown ones with a challenge as he readied his stance. Phil almost sighed with relief, disaster averted, for now anyway. But it was a worry, what else was there he'd assumed the kid knew that he apparently didn't?

"When I win you mean."

Phil smiled predatorily at Barton as he readied his own stance and they locked eyes. He could see a determination in the kid that hadn't been there before. Note to self, Barton likes a challenge. Challenge him and question his skills and he'd push himself to prove you were wrong.

"We'll see about that."

"I guess we will. One, two, three, go!"

* * *

As soon as Coulson said go Clint didn't rush in, he'd been taught better than that. Instead he kept his distance, kept his defences up, and observed Coulson, waiting for him to make the first move.

When it became obvious Barton was waiting for him to make the first move Phil decided to see how he'd respond to an attack, making a dart at his ribs. Barton spun away easily, aiming a punch at Phil's head which was blocked. Acting on instinct Phil managed to make his left fist connect with Barton's ribs, it was just a glancing blow but forced the kid to retreat slightly. Phil pressed his slight advantage and telegraphed a punch to the chest to throw Barton's guard off.

Except the boy suddenly ducked to the left before cart wheeling around Phil and landing him a blow to the back of his knees with his right foot. Phil spun around and extended his own leg, catching the kid off guard and making him stumble back, he only just managed to not fall down. He was looking at Phil with a hard expression now, eyes unreadable as they calculated what to do next.

Clint acted like he was going to attack to the right but at the absolute last minute veered left instead and lashed out. It was a great move; unfortunately Coulson seemed to know what he was doing and was ready for it. Clint gasped as Coulson blocked him with ease before landing a hit to Clint's sternum, not hard, but just enough so that it hurt and sent him stumbling back. Clint bit his lip hard enough that it started bleeding but didn't give any signs of pain. Then he attacked hard, managing to get some good hits in but also taking a lot himself.

Coulson decided to end this. He grabbed the archer's right arm (he was careful not to grab his left knowing how much the archer depended on it) and attempted to disable him by spinning him off balance and then flipping him over. It didn't quite work. Barton used Phil's own momentum to roll with his arm, throwing Phil off balance instead but he still managed to hang on, curious to see what the kid would do next. It was nothing like what he'd expected, not that he knew what he'd been expecting but it certainly wasn't this.

Barton half-somersaulted in a circle, forcing Phil to let go of him or risk having his own arm dislocated. Spinning around Phil kicked at Barton's legs and connected solidly with his shins, the gasp from Barton told him it had hurt. Phil watched the kid ready his stance and watch for an opening. Smart, he'd seen a little of what Phil could do and reasoned he had more of a chance if he didn't initiate the blows.

Clint was breathing hard and sweat was trickling down his back setting him on edge. Coulson was really good, not that that surprised him. Clint could hold his own in a fight but apart from his military training the only formal training he'd ever had had happened in two weeks of mixed martial arts lessons in China, they had cost a fortune so he hadn't been able to afford more than about five but they had helped him tremendously. Clint was starting to tire now and knew that if he went on the offense Coulson would beat him very fast so he bided his time and waited. One thing Master Chang had insisted on was patience.

Phil noticed the archer's slightly laboured breath and knew he was tiring fast so Phil tried a different tactic. Attacking quickly so Barton was too busy fending off blows to think about his own attack Phil made his move. One solid punch to Barton's left shoulder, again not too hard, while at the same time grabbing his right wrist and twisting it slightly before using Barton's own momentum to flip him onto the mat. The kid tried to react, but was too slow this time, the adrenalin was starting to wear off. He landed hard on the mat on his back and had the breath knocked out of him. Coulson let go and the archer just laid there gasping for air.

When he had his breath back Clint spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Okay, guess I owe you a cup cake."

Phil grinned as offered a hand to the downed archer who ignored it and slowly sat up by himself. He accepted the sealed bottle of water Phil handed him however which Phil counted as a win.

"You do. I'd say you lost but that was an impressive display. Who taught you some of those moves?"

Clint waited until he had his breath back before examining the seal of the water bottle carefully. After he was satisfied it was untouched he broke it and gratefully took a sip of the cool water.

"There was this guy in China who I learned mixed martial arts from. I was there on-and-off for two weeks, and during that time he taught me some common and not so common attack strategies, and also defence for them. He was very keen on using the whole body to fight, on gauging your opponent's weak points and taking advantage of them. He said nothing should be done in isolation; the whole body should work in harmony. He also stressed that patience was the key to winning a fight."

Phil blinked as he retrieved his own bottle of water and sipped it.

"You know mixed martial arts?"

Barton shrugged.

"I've had a few lessons, why?"

"What encouraged you?"

Phil realised he'd hit a sore spot when the kid's expression suddenly closed off.

"In my line of work training of any sort doesn't go astray. I learn what I can when I can. Never know when it might come in handy."

Well, that did make sense. Phil nodded thoughtfully.

"I guess that is true, I took dancing lessons at the Academy when it was first set up as that was a spot I was weak in, two weeks there and I can dance my way through anything now. It's useful when you're working undercover."

Clint was surprised at hearing that, he hadn't given much thought to what his life with SHIELD would entail or to what field agents did apart from shooting things. Now was probably a good time to get some answers regarding what being a SHIELD agent might actually entail.

"Will I ever work undercover?"

"Probably, most agents find themselves involved in undercover work at least once within their first few years with SHIELD. Our primarily intention is to have you train as a long-distance operative so you probably won't work undercover very often but it's sure to happen at some point. That's why we'll train you to handle all different types of scenarios."

Clint wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Can I ask you a question Coulson?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"What does being a long-distance operative actually mean? You've been tossing that phrase around for the last few days and I don't actually know what I'll be doing."

Coulson frowned as he regarded Clint.

"No one's given you the agent handbook? You seriously don't know what you're going to be doing once you've finished training?"

"No."

Coulson looked chagrined.

"We'll have to remediate that, I'll give you a copy tomorrow and you can read the official version of the kind of things you'll be doing in the field. If you have any question about anything you'll be doing ask me and I'll do my best to answer them. We haven't trained a long-distance operative in years so I'm not sure what the book says beyond working from a distance. Sorry about that."

Clint shrugged as he finished his water.

"It would just be nice to know."

"I'll have the book for you by tomorrow afternoon."

Phil looked at his watch and blinked in surprised, time had really gone fast.

"I mean this afternoon, it's early morning. I'm going to get some sleep before it's time to start working, you should too. It'll be a long day without any sleep."

The boy just shrugged as Phil gathered up his few things and threw his empty water bottle in the trash. Phil left Barton sitting in the gym and hoped he'd go to bed soon, traversing all over headquarters by air ducts wasn't the way one was supposed to spend one's night. Once again Phil was reminded of all the things he didn't know or understand about Clint Barton.

* * *

May watched in silence as Barton took down two agents without breaking stride, it seriously looked like he hadn't even had to try very hard. May enjoyed hand-to-hand combat but found there weren't many people on base who gave her a real challenge, the number who could keep up with her probably numbered at about four, with Sunny being one of them. It looked like she might finally have a new challenge in Barton which would be nice.

This morning Shelley was back and in charge of the training, Melinda hadn't seen Sunny and guessed he had gone back to the Academy already. Shelley was very loud and demanding with the agents under her training, she was the complete opposite of Sunny being a small, fierce brunette whose aggressiveness in a fight was legendary. She was a very good teacher and had a gift for being able to tailor an agent's training regime to suit them and teach them how to most effectively improve on their natural fighting styles.

May liked her a lot, she'd gotten to know the woman better since they'd started sharing a suite and knew she'd had a tough life but had managed to move on and become a top trainer at SHIELD because of her determination and dedication. She tolerated no bullshit from anyone and preferred working at the main bases as she had no patience for the egos that the Academy presented until they'd been cut down to size. She'd been away for the last week visiting her mother who wasn't well, the reason Sunny had come in to oversee the training.

After Barton had bested three agents it was May's turn to have a go with him, as of yet he was unbeaten. She smirked as she took up her position on the mat and faced him, he was still breathing heavily from the last round while May had had a quick break since her last round and was feeling alert and ready. The look in Barton's eyes told her he knew that and this fight wasn't going to be boring. May's smirk widened as the match started.

* * *

"That woman is a she-devil."

Phil looked up from his paperwork to see Barton was sporting a very big, very purple bruise on his right cheekbone and was walking a trifle stiffly. He gingerly sat down in his chair while Phil gave him his blandest look.

"Who is a she-devil? If you ask me there are plenty of them around here."

Barton waved his hand in the air to illustrate his point.

"Agent May, that woman is pure evil on two legs."

Phil actually laughed at Barton's obvious indignation over the other field agent.

"She knows how to make every hit count, that's for sure. She often bests me; she is one of the best hand-to-hand combatants that SHIELD has."

"No shit."

Phil laughed as he got up and headed towards the door. Barton frowned.

"Where are you going?"

"To get an ice pack for your face, I won't be long."

Without waiting for acknowledgment Phil left the office. It wasn't long before he was back with the aforementioned ice pack which he handed to Barton.

"Here, this should help with the bruising."

Barton mumbled something under his breath and rolled his eyes but took the offered ice and held it up to his cheek. Phil sat back down and opened the folder in front of him.

"Before we start I think you should know that we've set a date for your exams."

Barton's startling blue eyes gave no emotions away as they fastened on Phil, waiting for him to speak.

"They are set for you to take in just over a month's time; they haven't sorted out just where you will be sitting them yet but it will be at one of two centres that aren't that far away from here."

Barton shrugged.

"Whatever."

Phil just sighed.

"Okay now that I've told you that I think we'll start your lesson with maths today. Please turn to page 10..."

* * *

Fury was seriously fed up with Anderson; the man was an absolute turkey who was so short-sighted he couldn't see past his own ego. The good news was a few of the other council members were starting to show signs of being fed up with his childish acts as well. This morning Fury had shown them the footage of Barton using both a gun and a bow and they'd been stunned at the skills on display, three of them including Pierce were on Nick's side but Anderson was still resisting and one other council member was still backing him. Fury seriously hated politics and having to play their games. It came from being a soldier at heart.

Those who agreed with Fury about Barton staying had overruled Anderson's protests and so for now Barton was allowed to stay and do what he'd been doing for the last few days. That was a relief but Fury knew better than to believe it was over. Anderson wasn't the sort who took kindly to other people disagreeing with him, Fury had gotten the other council members acceptance of Barton in writing but didn't doubt it wasn't the last time Anderson made trouble; he'd have to be aware and keep an eye open.

As Fury was mulling this over Coulson knocked twice before entering the room. He was juggling an armload of files which he managed to deposit on Fury's desk without dropping one of them before sitting down in the other chair and looking hard at Fury.

"You've heard something that has affected you. Want to talk?"

Nick nodded; Phil knew him too well and besides this did concern Phil.

"The council has finally seen sense and Barton is allowed to stay. Anderson still objects but he was outvoted by most of the others and I got their decision in writing so it can't be disputed later if Anderson decides to challenge it. I think the other council members are starting to tire of him which is a point in our favour; they practically ignored him this morning when he started his protests after I showed them the tapes from the shooting range. Once they saw those there was no doubt they wanted Barton to stay here."

Phil was relieved.

"That's good news, isn't it boss? It's what we wanted."

"Yes it is but Phil, Anderson isn't going to give up and he hates Barton so much that I'm seriously starting to wonder if there is more to this than General Ross's influence."

Phil frowned at that.

"Like what?"

Fury shook his head.

"I don't know but I'm sure as hell keeping my eye open. You should too Phil; Anderson has the potential to cause trouble for both of us. Not to mention Barton."

Phil nodded.

"I will boss."

That sorted Nick now turned his attention to the folders Phil had dumped on his desk.

"Do I want to know what that is?"

"Barton's official reports now that's he's completed all the mandatory preliminary examinations and evaluations."

Fury raised an eyebrow as he reached for the top one, flipping it open he read what Wilkinson had to say about Barton. Finishing reading it he looked at Phil.

"Wilkinson really likes him doesn't he? 'Exemplary performance' 'remarkable marksmanship' 'these shooting scores are unrivalled by any SHIELD agent we've ever had'."

"I told you Barton was good, Wilkinson appreciates his skills."

Fury just grunted in reply as he continued to read his way through the pile of reports. It contained the usual for new agents including medical reports, general training comments from both Sunny and Shelley, the report on his hearing test and the coming aids as well as a preliminary psych report. Then there was Phil's report on his education and general progress. Fury opened the last folder in the pile and blinked at the results before looking at Phil.

"You've got to be kidding me Coulson. This isn't funny."

Phil only smirked.

"I know it isn't funny, it's simply incredible. The kid is borderline genius."

"An IQ of 144? Yes, that is almost genius level. I knew the kid wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination but I didn't expect this."

"It explains why he's such a fast learner."

"And also why he got into so much trouble in the army, he was bored to death." Fury sighed as he thought of the military file and all the complaints about Barton's antics that were noted in it.

"It's good news for us boss, I know you like the smart ones who can think for themselves and don't always follow orders if they don't think they're the right ones."

Fury glared.

"Don't push it Coulson. I'm still mad at you."

Phil wisely shut up.

Fury finished reading the reports and looked up.

"Where's the kid now?"

"I think he was muttering something about the range and arrows. Since the bow arrived yesterday he can't seem to get enough of archery, he really is good at it. I let him go fifteen minutes early today due to how well he did in his lessons. He's going to be more than ready for the exams in a month; he's practically done a week's worth of work in a couple of days, a remarkable achievement coming from someone with very little formal education. Given his IQ score his aptitude for learning at an accelerated rate now makes a lot of sense."

Fury nodded.

"It does indeed. His IQ is higher than even yours is, we haven't had a field operative with this high an IQ score in a while."

Phil looked at Fury curiously.

"Is he smarter than you as well? He's nine points higher than me."

Fury looked at Phil.

"My IQ score is classified as I've told you before."

Phil shrugged.

"Worth a try."

Fury looked back over the medical reports and frowned.

"The doctors reported the amount of scars the kid has is a worry, especially as he apparently wouldn't say what they are from even after being told full disclosure in medical matters is mandatory for new agents. They've also expressed concern about the obvious signs of childhood malnutrition that are clearly evident in the scans they did. Along with the amount of healed fractures and broken bones in his body which, once again, he's not talking about, and this kid looks like he's been through the wars. It's worst than some soldiers I know and he isn't even twenty yet. Has he said anything to you about any of it? The doctors couldn't get anything out of him."

Phil sighed and shook his head.

"I've got nothing; he acts like they don't exist and goes blank when asked questions about any aspect of his past. The doctors even tried to bribe the information out of him but nothing they said made any difference. In the end they gave up and instead just reported everything as it was."

Fury's frown deepened and his eyes actually felt suspiciously misty as he continued reading the medical report that he decided right at this moment was for his eyes only. Finally he finished reading everything and put the file down to look at Phil.

"This kid has been severely abused Phil, both physically and mentally. Come to think of it how does his mental state seem to be holding up with everything that is happening to him?"

Phil sighed again, this time in defeat.

"I haven't noticed anything different from when we brought him in Nick. He's close-mouthed when asked personal questions, snarky when he does decide to talk, very distrusting of everyone and everything on base and the best damn shot I have ever seen in my life. Reading him is almost impossible, he's often just blank. I have no idea what he's thinking or what he really feels about anything."

"Defence mechanism. He's been hurt too much in his life to let himself care anymore."

Phil nodded.

"Yes. And he's good at hiding his feelings. I don't know if he even knows how to show emotions anymore. I know they're there due to what I saw in Paris but he's not showing them now."

Fury didn't reply to that, instead reading other parts of the report until he had himself under control again. Damn it, he was Nick Fury for goodness sakes, master spy, SHIELD Director and all around bad-ass. He shouldn't be upset by a simple medical report.

"We put him through the standard vision tests and he came back as being off the charts. What did they have to say about that?"

"His vision is better than 20/20 but they couldn't give an exact number, for that we'll have to go to a specialist and there are only a handful of them in the country who are good enough to perhaps be able to give a more exact figure. One of them is in New York about an hour and a half's drive away; the next closest one is in North Carolina."

Fury taped his figure on the desk as he thought out loud.

"I want to have his eyes checked out by one of them, see just what sort of vision he has. It has to be incredible due to what he appears to see that the average human can't, in the prison he saw you through one way glass and was able to describe what your fingers were doing. His aim is almost supernatural and if he has extreme long distant vision or something that would explain a lot. Arrange it with the specialist in New York Phil, I want to know specifics."

"Will do sir."

Fury nodded.

"Good. And don't sir me Coulson; after reading all these reports I am not in the mood."

Phil didn't meet his eyes as he said so softly that Nick almost missed it.

"Believe me; I know how you feel Nick."

* * *

Clint shot all four dozen of his arrows in rapid success, hitting exactly what he aimed at every time. He recollected and shot again, then again, then again. He was almost finished his sixth round when he heard the door open behind him. He looked around as he loosed his current arrow without looking, it still hit the bullseye. Well, it wasn't like the target had moved. Coulson was watching him, shaking his head as the arrow found its mark. Seeing Clint knew he was there he stepped forward.

"Fury's demanding an eye test which we will have to go to a specialist off-site for; he wants to know just where your vision registers on the scale."

Clint snorted as he notched and drew another arrow.

"It's like a Hawk. I thought I'd told him that already."

Thwump.

Another bullseye.

"He wants an official opinion on it."

"That figures, your types always want official opinions."

Thwump.

"Wouldn't you like to know just how good your vision is?"

Thwump.

Clint shrugged as he drew his last arrow.

"No? I see like a hawk, that's all I care about."

Thwump.

Another perfect hit.

And he had to recollect his arrows again. Though thinking about what Coulson had just said...

"Why can't you do these kinds of advance tests yourselves? I thought you were supposed to be a big spy organisation?"

Coulson's face was bland as he answered, not seeming the least rattled by Clint's question. Clint resolved right then to make it his personal mission to break that bland facade using any means necessary. The Agent's poker face was starting to really annoy him.

"We hope to one day. SHIELD is expanding all the time and we are gaining access to more resources as we go, we have some very smart people in the Academies that I'm sure will be top doctors and specialists for SHIELD one day, but for now we have to work with what we're given. And we don't have anyone who can do the sort of testing Fury wants so once I arrange it we'll be taking a trip."

"How far?"

"About an hour and a half by car. We'll drive; I hope you don't get carsick."

Clint was indignant at that.

"No, I don't suffer from any sort of travel sickness."

"Just had to check, didn't want to find out en route."

Clint collected his arrows back up and Coulson helped him, remembering to pull the arrows out of the targets with a grip close to the head. Once Clint had gathered them all he gave Coulson a calculated look.

"Do you want something else?"

"Actually yes. Mind if I watch you shoot for a while? I haven't seen much archery."

Clint shook his head before turning back to the targets.

"No that's fine. Just stay quiet please."

Finding the headspace he wanted Clint took a steadying breath and started firing his arrows again, gosh he'd missed archery. All too soon his time was up, Coulson helped him collect the arrows again and Clint locked them safely away in his locker before taking his bow case to his room, he noticed Coulson didn't comment which was just as well as there was no way he was leaving his new bow lying around for just anyone to touch. She was too precious for that.

Clint missed his own bow with a passion, she was custom made after all and he'd been through a lot with her but as far as he knew she was still in that storage locker in Paris. Along with his own clothes and his set of throwing knives, good thing he'd paid for the locker twelve months in advance before taking off to Budapest. Clint knew he had to collect his things at some point but wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that, it wasn't likely SHIELD would let him take a trip to France. There were also those things he wanted that were still in Spain. Oh well it wasn't like he hadn't lived on bare essentials before and at least he knew his things were safe. It would be nice to have his own rifle though.

* * *

The morning of Clint's sixth day with SHIELD had brought a weather change with it that no one was particularly happy about. It was raining like it would never stop; thunder boomed overhead and flash-flooding was predicted for low-lying areas. This didn't worry Clint (the facility was built on high ground) what did worry him was the fact that the roof wasn't a very pleasant place to be at the moment. Not that that usually stopped Clint, he'd spent most of the night out there huddled in a jacket in an attempt to protect him from the icy wind as he'd watched the clouds build up until eventually the heavens opened and he was forced to retreat back inside if he didn't want to drown.

The break in the weather also meant any outdoor activities were out which was a disappointment as Clint was to be allowed to try the small parkour course out, apparently this base wasn't ideal to train agents on and as most of them went to the Academy to qualify there was no need to have big training facilities on the main bases anymore. Or at least that's what Coulson had told him. Clint had been looking forward to that but the rain had ensured that wasn't happening now. Though he had no doubts he could do it wet SHIELD policy stated he must do it dry which Clint thought was ridiculous. During a mission was he going to stop and let the target get away if it started raining?

Coulson had agreed with him on that point but had also stated it was policy and there was nothing he could do about it while Clint was still a Probationary Agent and in-training. When he had full agent status they would deal with that issue, not before. Clint had had to accept that but it hadn't made him happy and just because he could he'd 'borrowed' Coulson's expensive looking flashlight to use in his new nest as he couldn't go outside in this weather. Hey, it was just lying there and people should honestly know better than to leave their stuff lying around for anyone to pick up.

Clint had been spending a lot of time on the roof over the last few days and nights. He wasn't sleeping in his room much as it gave him very vivid nightmares, more vivid than he'd had in several months. Clint was sure it was because he was so tired but the room still felt really confining and his current anxiety levels meant he was paranoid that someone would sneak up on him. He couldn't keep his hearing aids in all the time because they made his ears sore so he was always on edge.

Clint was pretty sure no one knew he'd been spending nights either sleeping on the roof or in the air vents, he had met Coulson the other night in that small gym but the agent hadn't given any indication he knew Clint was doing anything more than exploring them.

The truth was Clint had already shaped them into his personal hideout. He'd smuggled a few blankets he'd taken from storage up and arranged them to form a cosy little nest in a junction not that far from his assigned room. He'd unscrewed the screws holding the vent in place in his room and replaced them with magnets he'd swiped from another agent so he could enter his haven easily without leaving his room.

He used these same vents to get onto the roof; there was a maintenance shaft that took him right up there and he'd found and moved the sensors SHIELD had installed so he wouldn't accidently trip them and give away his hidey-holes. No one had seemed to notice the sensors had been moved which Clint though was very sloppy.

There were no cameras monitoring the section of roof Clint liked to sit on, though a camera did cover the entryway to the maintenance shaft and it couldn't be avoided as it was fixed in place. Clint was sure he'd turned up on that camera but no one had said anything so he hoped he'd escaped their attention. After all, he technically wasn't doing anything wrong and no one had told him he wasn't allowed to be on the roof. If they'd known the amount of time he'd spent there they might have been worried but so far no one had commented.

Right now he was curled up in his nest wrapped in the blankets as he read the SHIELD Agent handbook that Coulson had given him with the aid of his 'borrowed' flashlight, it was very interesting. Though he was a long distance operative the categories covered by that were very broad. He might have to work undercover either to take out a target or protect someone, other times he might just shoot from a distant roof and then disappear before anyone came looking. He would also be gathering Intel, assessing threats and possibly be involved in espionage. He would do protection details and be part of scouting parties; things that weren't that dissimilar to the army, which made sense given that SHIELD was a militaristic organisation.

At the front of the handbook there was a brief history of SHIELD; Clint had read it with interest. The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division had apparently grown out of an agency called the Strategic Scientific Reserve; they were responsible for making Captain America back in the forties which Clint hadn't known. He did know Captain America had fought the Red Skull during World War Two of course, but not that the Red Skull was the founder of Hydra and that Peggy Carter and Howard Stark were two of the original founders of modern day SHIELD.

One of the orphanages Clint had stayed at had had some Captain America comics in the playroom; Clint had read them all at least twice and had loved them. Barney had hated them as he thought himself too old to believe in heroes and had called Clint a baby the first time he'd seen him reading them. Clint enjoyed them so much that he hadn't stopped reading them; he's just done it in secret after that. He couldn't help it; Cap's adventures had helped to keep Clint sane during their stay in that particular orphanage.

He'd dreamt of one day becoming like Captain America and saving the world, that boyhood dream was part of the reason he'd decided to join the army when he wanted a change, to follow in the good old Captain's footsteps. It had been a grand dream and Clint had been very naive back then, believing all he had to do was join the army like Cap did and all his problems would go away.

This was real life however and Clint wasn't Captain America. He had no superpowers, just an uncanny aim and too-smart mouth. He was a poor orphan and ex-carnie with dreams of grandeur which had long since been crushed. He was no superhero, if anything he was the villain Cap always fought in the comics. He had a ledger that dripped red with blood and had killed many innocent people for money; Captain America had fought the good fight to protect innocent people. Clint wasn't hero material like Captain America had been; his heart and soul were too dark for that.

All he could do was take each day as it came and try to atone for all the innocent blood he'd spilt and lives he'd destroyed. Maybe, if he worked hard enough at it, one day he might be able to go some way to righting all the wrongs that haunted his past.

* * *

 **End of chapter 4.**

* * *

 **Poor Clint. He is incapable of seeing himself as a victim of circumstance and doesn't have any sense of personal self worth.**

 **Next chapter;**

 **Chapter 5: Hawk Eye's**

 **See you then (pun intended).**

 **Don't forget to review!**


	5. Hawk eye's

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **Wow, this story has received a far bit of attention this week. Thankyou, all who followed and favourited! Now that the set up for this story is finished we start the real fun!**

 **Reviewers of chapter 4: Guest and amy. d. fuller. 9.**

 **Reviewers of earlier chapters: Armand and meriadoc33.**

 **Thank you all!**

 **Also, it was pointed out to me by a few people that things were somewhat confusing regarding Clint's IQ score. For the record Clint's IQ is now 144, borderline genius according to the information I found at www .free-iqtest iq-score-guide .asp I have updated the last chapter to reflect that change.**

 **In order to avoid spoilers there is a note regarding certain events in this chapter at the end.**

 **Also, from here on out I'll be updating twice a week. My usual weekend update plus one in the middle of the week.**

 **And so, let the real fun begin!**

* * *

Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others. _Jonathan Swift_

* * *

 **C** **hapter 5: Hawk eye's**

Over the next week Clint established a routine that was the most stable and comfortable he'd had since army training. Not that army boot camp had been comfortable, far from it, but it had been the stablest time in Clint's life, only surpassed by now.

He would be in general training in the mornings in which he was steadily improving. He still didn't come close to beating Agent May in sparring but he could hold his own with pretty much everyone else on base and wasn't beaten very often by them. After the third time she'd kicked his ass in as many days May had started coaching him on hand-to-hand techniques in her free time and he knew her tutoring was bearing fruit when their sparring matches started going for longer and she got less hits in. Clint's fitness level was also steadily improving as he strove to make himself better in whichever way he could.

After general training he would spend a couple of hours on the shooting range practicing with a variety of weapons. Since he now had a bow Wilkinson incorporated that into his range time and had even given him a neat schedule of what he wanted him to practice and for how long. Clint's aim with handguns and rifles was improving the more he used them as was his ability to shoot a bow. His aim, which had always been amazing, became the best it had ever been and Clint found he literally could not miss with the top of the line weaponry SHIELD supplied him with. The organisation took its weapons very seriously and Clint appreciated that. If you were in a tough situation out in the field how good your weapon was may mean the difference between you living or dying. Clint knew that to be a fact.

After his range time he grabbed lunch to go and suffered through a few hours with Coulson and the GED books in the man's office. Clint had been somewhat surprised to find he actually enjoyed learning these things; from the few memories he still had of going to school it had always been boring. Working with Coulson wasn't boring however, Clint found out most things made sense and were interesting, especially maths and geometry. He'd basically been doing both for years with his shooting anyway, and he picked up algebra just like that and could do the complex problems the course presented and not make a single mistake in two days flat. Coulson said that if he ever wanted to go to do a college degree he would be able to do advanced math and science but going to college wasn't on Clint's agenda for the near future.

After lessons finished for the day he would normally go back to the range and work with his bow for a while to stretch the kinks out of his muscles and relax for a bit before it was dinner time and then lights out, not that the base ever truly went to sleep, there was always something happening somewhere in the world when you worked for a world-wide organisation. Clint still wasn't sleeping in his assigned room much, electing instead to stay on the roof or curl up in his cosy nest in the air vents which now included fluffy pillows that some agent had left lying around and snacks he'd smuggled up there. He probably hadn't really needed to smuggle them up but old habits die hard and Clint had gone hungry too many times in his life for him to take food lightly.

Clint had been at SHIELD for going on two weeks when he and Coulson took a trip to the city to see the eye specialist. It was also the first time Clint had been allowed off base since his recruitment.

* * *

"Boots off the dashboard Barton."

Clint scowled and made a big show of slowly removing his feet, Coulson ignored him which irritated Clint no end. He hadn't had much opportunity to put Operation; Annoy Coulson, into practice for the last week and now having a whole day to spend with the man Clint was determined to be the biggest pain in the ass he could possibly be.

He tried changing the channel on the radio from country music to rock but Coulson swatted his hand away and changed it back himself. Clint attempted to try again but a quick glare from Coulson succeeded in stopping him in his tracks.

"The radio stays on this station for now; if you are good at the eye specialist I might let you pick the station on the way home. Only if you're good though, so you'd better take that look off your face Barton."

Clint sulked for a while after that. Coulson continued to ignore him as he skilfully manoeuvred the SHIELD-issued vehicle in and out of traffic. Clint finally decided if he couldn't annoy Coulson with his actions he'd drive him insane with talking and asking questions. Just because he didn't say much very often it didn't mean he didn't know how to talk.

"Why can't I drive?"

Coulson steered around a pothole that appeared in front of them with a suddenness that sent Clint sliding across his seat and into the door with a yelp. Rubbing his right arm which he was sure now had a bruise in it Clint glared at Coulson who was smirking and not looking the least apologetic for what he'd just done.

"That hurt! I'm delicate, drive carefully! If you'd just let me drive that wouldn't have happened!"

"Maybe not to you but I'm not letting you near the driver's seat of anything until we've tested your skills in that area in a safe environment. Besides, you don't have a licence."

That last bit was very true; Clint had driven in the army a little bit but had never actually had a real licence. The one he'd presented to the army had been a fake but he did know how to drive, it was something he'd been taught in the circus. He'd never had the need to drive very often and when he did he preferred to use his motorcycle. Which he technically didn't have a valid licence for either but Clint had never let that stop him.

"Well, when am I going to be given the test then? I presume you do _those_ sorts of things yourself."

Coulson nodded as he steered around another pothole a lot less violently than he had for the last one.

"Yes, we have a driver education course at the Academy that is mandatory for all field agents whether they already have a licence or not. The driving SHIELD agents often have to do is a long way from civilian driving skills; it can often be a matter of life or death. Our agents are taught to handle a range of situations and conditions. It's one of the courses I want you to take at the Academy once you have your GED. You do know that we want you to go to the Academy and take classes there and pass them before you are granted with full agent status don't you?"

Clint nodded shortly.

"Yes, I do know. What good it will do I don't know, I can already shoot better than anyone else on base and my sparring is improving. If you want me to just be a sniper what's the point of learning anything else?"

"We want you equipped for whatever the situation calls for. You won't always be working from a distance Barton, mostly you will be but there will be times when that will be impossible to do. SHIELD hopes for the best case scenario but makes sure to train it's agents to expect the worst and act accordingly. Things don't go as planned more often than not."

Clint was still feeling petulant.

"I still don't see how it will improve my shooting."

"The Academy teaches skills other than weaponry. For instance, can you dance?"

It took Clint a few moments to process exactly what Coulson had just said and when he did he decided to have a bit of fun and so gave the man a disdainful look.

"Sorry, you're not my type. Besides, aren't you supposed to ask someone out to dinner before you ask then to dance with you? I know I didn't have the most conventional upbringing but I've got in on good faith that that's how it normally works."

Clint was sure he actually saw a hint of a blush surface on Coulson's neck at that and had to keep himself from sniggering. His superiors in the army had always been uncomfortable when details about their private life were asked, nice to know that there was a subject that actually caused Coulson a bit of embarrassment. It took the Agent a couple of seconds to answer Clint's question but when he did his voice was totally professional despite the colour that had risen in his cheeks. If Clint wasn't trying to be the biggest pain he could possibly be and trying to keep his guard up at the same time he would have sniggered.

"I meant it as a serious question, if you're going to work undercover for SHIELD you'll have to be able to adapt to whatever comes your way, and it's a good idea to always expect the unexpected. Dance classes are mandatory for active field Agents, as are lessons in espionage, basic computer hacking skills and a host of other things that you probably don't have much experience in or even know existed. It's why we have an Academy in the first place; to teach our operatives the skills they need to enable them to do their job."

"Does SHIELD have a fraternization policy?"

Now that he'd actually found a weak point in Coulson's armour Clint wasn't the kind of person to let it slide, especially not when he was on a personal mission to annoy the agent. Though the hint of a blush was still there Coulson's reply was delivered in a completely professional voice which only served to make Clint more determined to break the older man's facade.

"Why, are you thinking of all those female Agents at the Academy? A word of warning Barton, they are training to be agents of SHIELD and as such might not take kindly to being harassed."

"But what if they want it?"

"Barton, I am not discussing this subject with you at this point in time. If you have any questions read the agent handbook I gave you, it will tell you the basics of what is appropriate and what isn't accepted within SHIELD."

"I did read it but Agent May said..."

As soon as those words left the archer's mouth Phil knew it was going to be a very long trip.

* * *

Things had seemed to be going fine with Barton up until Phil had said something about the dancing lessons the Academy offered. He knew from personal experience it was a skill that many people didn't have and was very useful in undercover situations when you had to get close to a mark. He hadn't thought of how it might sound and was kicking himself that he'd given Barton that kind of material to use and planted ideas in his head.

It wasn't that Phil was uncomfortable with the subject per say, SHIELD did have a policy but it was mostly ignored by everyone, as long as things didn't interfere with missions Fury turned a blind eye on what his agents did in their free time and as a result the supervisors and handlers didn't worry so long as no one was disturbed. The policy was pretty much just a formality to keep the higher-ups happy. Phil had a gut feeling Barton knew that and when May's name popped up in the conversation Phil was certain that was the case and that Barton was just trying to push his buttons.

He proved to be right and the next couple of hours were among the most trying of Phil's life and patience. He was quite proud of the fact that they arrived at their destination safely and were both still alive and in the car at the end of it, he'd felt like throwing Barton out of the car more than once. He was also very proud of the fact that he'd managed to look unruffled throughout.

* * *

Clint sat alone in the examination room at the eye clinic, waiting for the specialist to come back with his eye test results. The eye doctor had run Clint through a whole heap of vision tests and asked him a truck load of questions to determine how good his sight was. When that was finally all done the doctor had blinked rather rapidly at the results, looked shocked and then asked if Clint would excuse him for a moment.

Without waiting for an answer he'd hurried out of the examination room to where Coulson was waiting outside, swaying like he was drunk, muttering something about unbelievable and couldn't be true. Clint inwardly smirked; his eyesight really was just _that good_. Clint occupied himself while he waited for the doctor to return by reading everything written on the posters on the walls of the room, including the small print, just because he could. It wasn't like there was much else to do.

* * *

"His vision is far better than 20/20 Mr Coulson. I have never seen anything like it, and I've been a specialist eye doctor for over thirty years. He's got 20/8 or even 20/6 vision, I'm not sure that his vision even exists on a scale; he's right off all the charts I've got and have ever seen. What's up with the man?"

Coulson was reading through the results himself, but looked up at the question.

"I would like to know the answer to that myself Doc, any idea why his vision is so good? Is that level of accuracy natural?"

"Not for a human being, for an eagle or hawk maybe than yes, human being no. All in all his eyes are more suited to belonging to a bird of prey than a human; his sight may even rival theirs. He must have been born like that as I can't think of any other explanation but I've never seen or heard of anything like it in a human. I don't know quite what to make of it actually."

Coulson had had a good think while he was waiting and as a result had some questions to ask the Doctor before they went any further.

"Is it possible that his vision was already above average but then something happened to improve it? I know people who are blind are supposed to have better hearing than those who aren't as the other senses make up for the missing one. Could something like that have happened here?"

After all, Clint was almost deaf. If it was true that the other senses compensated for the lost one it made sense that his eyesight would be better than most people's.

The Doctor frowned.

"No, something like that definitely did not happen here. It's the whole inner structure of his eyes that is responsible for his acute vision; I have never seen anything like this on anyone my whole life. It's incred..."

Coulson's voice cut through the doctors ramblings.

"So, just what makes his eyes so different to other people's?"

The doctor ran a hand through his thinning hair distractedly as he replied.

"It's rather hard to explain what his eyes are like but I'll do my best to not confuse you too much. Basically, the whole inner structure of his eyes is altered. The human eye contains an area called the favea within the retina which contains the cones and rods cells that enable you to see. He has all those but they are arranged differently to everyone else. It's believed that the average person has around 120 million rod cells in their eyes, he has at least 200 million which results in an incredible peripheral vision and should enable him to basically be able see in the dark to a certain degree."

Phil raised an eyebrow. That was surprising news.

"He can see in the dark? How well?"

"I don't know. His night vision probably isn't as good as an owl's but is likely at least 3 times better than the average human. As for the cones in his eyes I honestly don't know how to explain what's going on with those."

Phil was listening intently.

"Tell me what you're thinking anyway, don't worry if it doesn't seem to make sense. I want to know."

The doctor nodded.

"Okay, but this will probably sound really weird. The fovea centralis as it is called has a great density of rods and cones, receptors we most commonly call them. The number of receptors per square millimetre determines the degree of visual acuity. Humans have about 200,000 receptors per mm2; sparrows however have about 400,000 while raptors have an incredible 1 million receptors per mm2."

"He has at least 1 million receptors per mm2 in his eyes like a raptor has which is absolutely amazing. A human being does not usually have that degree of acuity, it is reserved for birds of prey only and yet somehow he has it. The average human is believed to have 4.5 million cone cells in their eyes; an eagle has many times that. The cone cells are responsible for colour vision and the average human eye contains three colour pigments. He, however, possesses four different colours of cone cells in his eyes. The presence of four pigments in the eye extends the range of colour vision into the ultraviolet. This condition is called Tetrachromacy and enables birds to see colour better than we do. I have never actually heard of a human possessing it."

"In short the cells and rods in his eyes are definitely closer to an eagle's in their properties and in the way they are arranged. For a human his vision is absolutely unbelievable. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he can actually see an ant crawling on the ground from the roof of a 10-story building, whether it's night or day probably wouldn't matter to him."

"It's absolutely unbelievable, it's like the best parts of a human eye have been fused with the best parts of a bird of prey's eye to become one whole new eye. I know it sounds crazy but I can't think of any other way of describing it."

Coulson simply nodded thoughtfully as he closed the file containing the results.

"Are you finished with him now?"

The doctor nodded.

"Yes, but I want to know more about how this is possible. Would it be okay if I did more research and possibly even wrote a paper on this? It's unreal!"

Coulson frowned.

"More research yes, publishing anything on it no. Patient confidentially forbids that. You can research all you want but the information about where you came by the condition stays confidential. I understand that you were fully briefed before this appointment was made."

The doctor nodded, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Yes, I was, I won't tell anyone. Anything else you want to know sir?"

"Have you finished with Barton?"

"Yes, he's in the examination room."

"I'll come with you to get him."

The doctor closed his mouth at the authority in Coulson's voice and his no-nonsense gaze and quickly nodded in understanding as he trotting away back into his examination room. Phil followed, carrying the surprising results from Barton's eye test. When they entered the room Barton looked at them in a bored way from where he was sitting slouched in a chair. His eyes narrowed at the expression on both their faces before he smirked widely.

"Finally ready to go boss? I've been waiting for hours."

"I hardly think ten minutes qualifies as hours."

"When there's nothing to do it does."

The doctor found his voice just then.

"Don't you want to know your test results?"

Clint shrugged.

"I already know my eyesight is really good, so no. I didn't even want this stupid test in the first place so I'm not worried about the results. Do I want to get out of here? Yes."

The doctor gaped at him as Coulson nodded.

"In that case we'll be off. Thank you for these results and your time Dr Peterson. The bill will be paid in full within the next few days."

The doctor only nodded at that, still shell shocked over the results of Barton's eye test. Phil resolved to go over the thing very carefully himself later and look at what was normal for a human's eyes and what Barton apparently had. He'd known the kid's eyesight had to be good but these results had him very interested.

* * *

"He said a lot to me Barton but the gist of it is that your eyes are more suited to belonging to an eagle than a human being."

" _Hawk_."

Phil rolled his own eyes.

"Fine then, a hawk, they both are technically birds of prey. Has your eyesight always been that good?"

Barton shrugged as he looked at Phil.

"As far back as I can remember, yes. I don't remember my eyes ever doing anything different. I always saw everything; nothing was ever hidden from me. My vision is what originally earned me the nickname Hawkeye. Eye's like a hawk and all that stuff the circus advertised, I never gave it much thought but it always drew in crowds. Now it turns out I really do have eyes like a hawk then?"

"That's pretty much what the eye doctor told me. He was quite flabbergasted by it, said he'd never seen anything like it in a human being and he's been an eye doctor for over 30 years."

"I do like keeping people on their toes."

"I seriously doubt you had a say in what your sight is like."

"Who says I didn't?"

Phil frowned internally at that.

"What do you mean? None of us can control how we are born."

Barton looked away and stared out the window. He didn't turn around as he spoke the next words so softly that Phil almost missed them.

"No, they can't. If they could I wouldn't be in this mess."

* * *

The next morning Fury was waiting in his office for Coulson to arrive. He had the results from Barton's eye test laid out in front of him and was tapping a pen on the page, lost in thought.

Coulson arrived several minutes later and sat down in the chair opposite Fury. Nick looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What are your thoughts on the results of Barton's eye tests?"

Phil just shook his head in bewilderment.

"I honestly don't know what to think of them, last night I spent several hours going over them and trying to figure out what it all means. It is the weirdest thing I have ever encountered and I still don't know how to react to it."

Fury nodded.

"I understand how you feel. I've read the reports multiple times as well and I have to admit that I've never encountered something quite like this either, which is really saying something for me given some of what I've witnessed in my life. The properties of Barton's eyes are apparently a mix of raptor eye cells and human eye cells correct?"

"That's what I was told; the eye doctor didn't know what to think about it either. He said in over thirty years in the profession he's never seen anything like this in a human eye.'

Fury nodded even as he frowned deeply.

"It is very odd, supernaturally odd almost. I am not entirely convinced it is actually natural, even for him."

Phil frowned and looked at Fury with a questioning expression.

"What do you mean boss? I read the report multiple times last night and it never occurred to me that it wasn't natural."

"I mean that I'm not sure his eyesight hasn't been enhanced or artificially altered as some point in his life."

Phil just stared at his boss in shock.

"Are you saying his sight could be the result of a science experiment or something? How?"

Fury's expression was completely unreadable.

"I honestly don't know the answer to that one Phil. I think I need to talk to him about this myself. He hasn't said anything that makes me think he knows or remembers anything , not that that means much as if it was an illegal experiment or something not quite legal they likely would have taken steps to ensure he didn't remember what happened. I do know a lot about these things Coulson and I don't take things at face value, I wasn't a spy during the Cold War for nothing."

Phil sighed.

"I sometimes forget that you spent more time in the spy world than you did in the military. But who could have done something to him and when? Apart from the time spent in the circus his life is fairly well documented, there aren't any mega gaps. Wouldn't he remember if something happened? He told me that his sight has been that good for as long as he can remember and it's what originally earned him the name Hawkeye."

Fury waited until Phil ran out of words and stopped for a breath before he spoke.

"We both know there have been lots of experiments to create super soldiers since Captain America and Project Rebirth Coulson; some have been legal and officially sanctioned with people volunteering as test subjects, others not so much. Hydra, AIM, the KGB and probably any number of other organisations and individuals that we aren't aware of; they all are trying to create their own super soldier serums and have been since Project Rebirth was successful. Barton's genetics tested normal for a human, no abnormalities showed up in a blood test or a DNA test and I went through them with a fine tooth comb as soon as I got the eye test results. Due to that I wouldn't worry about it too much Coulson as we have no way of knowing it isn't just natural for him, as weird as it may seem."

Phil was following what Nick said very carefully and spoke up at that.

"You think we might be making a mountain out of a molehill here? That as weird as it seems it might just be how he was born?"

"Possibly, we are so used to looking at the big picture and all the possibilities that we sometimes forget that things can have a simple explanation. We have no way of knowing either way in Barton's case so I think we should just accept it at face value unless information ever comes to light to suggest otherwise. Keep an eye on him though Phil, even if it's natural we still need to be alert."

"Why? Are you afraid someone might kidnap him?"

"Possibly that or worse, I think I'm going to lock these results up and leave SHIELD's own evaluation on Barton's sight in his file. No one needs to know anything about this, understand Coulson? As of now these results are classified at the highest clearance level with only me having the authority to access them."

"What about Alexander Pierce?"

Fury frowned.

"He doesn't need to know about any of this either."

Phil actually grinned at that.

"The great Nick Fury, withholding information from a superior? I never thought I'd live to see the day. You're a bad example on the rest of us."

The look Fury gave Phil made him shut up pretty quick.

"I have my reasons Coulson and I am the boss. Remember; once we've finished this conversation these results don't officially exist anymore."

Phil was used to Fury being cryptic and evasive; he was the king of spies after all with almost two decades of experience, so he nodded.

"I understand perfectly sir. The details of this conversation or that file won't leave this room."

* * *

One night almost a week later Clint was sleeping up on the roof of the SHIELD complex again, thankful that it was a clear night. He loved being able to see the stars and watch the moon move slowly across the sky. It reminded him of his circus days and the one time in his life where he'd almost been truly happy.

Clint's sleep had been restless and when he woke up for the umpteenth time he sensed he wasn't alone on the roof. When you've lived alone for as long as he had trusting no one you kind of knew when someone else was around. Stiffening slightly his hand automatically closed around the handle of the knife he'd hidden in his jacket pocket before he drew it in one fluid motion and leapt up as he swung around to face the intruder, throwing his knife as he did so.

Clint wasn't sure who he'd thought it was with his brain still muddled from sleep and the remnants of the nightmares he'd been suffering from but he certainly hadn't expected it to be Director Fury himself.

Clint started panicking.

Fury, strangely enough, didn't seem bothered by the fact he'd just had to dodge an extremely sharp knife that had been thrown at his heart with the intention to kill him.

"Good evening Barton, I see that you're awake."

Clint didn't have his hearing aids in and read Fury's lips automatically in spite of being on the verge of a panic attack. He couldn't think of what to say so he said the first thing that came to his still sleep muddled mind.

"Shit."

"Indeed."

Fury didn't seem bothered by the fact that Clint had just tried to kill him. Clint fought down the panic attack threatening to engulf him as he desperately tried to apologise, a difficult task when he couldn't hear his own voice.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know it was you. I didn't mean to try and kill you. Please don't send me away."

Nick realised pretty quickly that the boy didn't have his hearing aids in and was freaking out and so he made sure to look straight at the kid when he spoke so that his mouth was clearly visible.

"I know you didn't intend to try and kill me, I startled you and you acted without conscious thought, it happens. If it helps I always wear Kevlar so unless you'd aimed for my head you wouldn't have actually killed me. Stop panicking; I'm not going to punish you for reacting like I might have in a similar situation. And it might be advisable to put your hearing aids in once you've calmed down so we can talk. You're not being chucked out either so don't look like that."

The calm way the Director was taking this helped to ground Clint as he dropped back onto the flat roof and buried his face in his hands as he concentrated on breathing steadily to try to calm himself down.

Fury sat down on the roof several feet away and gazed out into the night as Clint pulled himself together enough so that he could think clearly again. It took a while. His hands were still trembling and his heart was beating way too fast but he no longer felt like he was about to suffocate.

When he thought he had his reactions under control Clint risked a look at the Director. He was sitting on the edge of the roof staring out into the night like Clint often did. Clint didn't know what had brought the Director of SHIELD of all people to the roof but had a nasty suspicion that it was to do with him and probably wasn't good.

Fury turned his head and regarded Clint as he scooted over to the edge of the roof and sat down, letting his feet dangle over the side like Fury was. Clint made sure to keep the distance Fury had placed between them but realistically he knew that Fury was highly unlikely to be here to kill him, if he'd wanted him dead he could have said the word weeks ago and be done with it. Once he was settled he pulled his new SHIELD issued hearing aids (which were way better than his old ones had been) out of his jacket pocket and put them in. When he could hear again he looked over at Fury who was watching him.

Clint didn't know where to start so it was Fury who broke the awkward silence.

"Bangkok, 1993; I was captured by enemies of SHIELD and tortured by them for almost a week. By the time an extraction team pulled me out of there I was more dead than alive. After my initial recovery it took me months not to flinch at any loud noise and to be able to sleep a full night without waking up screaming. It was the single worst mission of my life, worst even than when I lost my eye. It was after that I moved into the position of acting Director of SHIELD permanently and stopped going into the field, even just as a supervisor."

Clint blinked as he looked intently across at Fury.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I have my reasons Barton. I know you've been sleeping on the roof on and off ever since Coulson and I brought you in; I also know that you've been using the air vents to get up here. I'm curious, how did you manage to disable the motion sensors?"

"How do you know about those?"

"I'm the Director of SHIELD Barton; it's my job to know these things. Whatever you've done to them is damn impressive as the technicians haven't picked up anything out of the ordinary."

Clint shrugged.

"That's because they are still working, they have just been relocated to another spot."

Fury stared at Clint for a moment before he started chuckling.

"That's all you did? Relocate them? How did you manage to do that without setting them off?"

"It wasn't easy but I did it."

"Obviously." Fury was still chuckling as he shook his head. "That's why nothing is registering as amiss. Just for curiosity's sake, where did you put them?"

"In the south tunnel that leads to the level 2 break room. I don't use that one as it leads nowhere special so they aren't disturbed."

Fury was even more amused at that. Barton certainly was a handful and then some; Fury was starting to understand why his military file was such a mess.

"You really must have driven those people in the army crazy."

Clint glared at him.

"Why do you think they were so keen to be rid of me? _Sir_."

"I'm actually somewhat surprised you lasted with them as long as you did."

"They wanted to keep my shooting abilities around so they used alternative methods to try and discipline me rather than kicking me out. It was only after I disobeyed a direct order multiple times that they finally decided enough was enough and actually got rid of me."

Fury just nodded as he stared back out into the night.

"I know. For what it means I agree with your assessment about that target."

Clint blinked and turned to fully face Fury with a look of utter amazement on his face.

"Say again?"

"I believe you about the target not being the right man the army wanted you to kill. Now that I know how good your vision is I have no doubts that you were doing what you thought was right at the time. It was just bad luck that your superior didn't like you."

Clint was rendered speechless as he tried to wrap his head around what Fury had just said. Fury didn't seem worried, instead he turned around and looking back out over the woods that surrounded the base. It was a few minutes before Clint spoke again and when he did his voice carried a sarcastic tone.

"It was the wrong target; I seriously didn't need a scope to tell me _that_. I can see whether a blurred shape is a person or a tree from almost two miles away, several hundred yards is nothing. I could have told you how many lines he had on his face I saw him that clearly."

Fury's reply to that was devoid of emotion.

"I'm sure you could have, your eye test results a week ago confirm that you can indeed see things that other people can't. Has your vision always been that good?"

"I don't remember it ever being anything different to what it is now; I've always had good eyes. I see _everything_ ; I always have, ever since I was a small kid. I never understood why people were so blind to things that are so easy to see."

Fury looked thoughtful.

"Easy for you to see at any rate, you possibly have the best vision of any human being on the planet."

Clint looked straight at the director with an expression verging on shocked.

"Really?"

Fury nodded.

"It's quite likely that is the case. Coulson said that the eye doctor told him it's like elements of a human eye and a hawk's eye have been fused together to create your eyes. He had never seen anything like it before and didn't know what to say about it. How do you feel about apparently having eyes that are similar to a hawk? It fits rather nicely with your codename. How did you actually get your codename? I presume it was after you joined the circus."

Clint shrugged as he debated how much of the story to tell Fury. He finally decided that telling the Director the basics couldn't hurt.

"The name originally came from the fact I never missed what I aimed at, they use to say I had eyes like a hawk. So when I had to choose a stage name I chose Hawkeye, it has a nice ring to it and is very catchy which when you're performing in a travelling circus is exactly what you want."

"It's also a catchy code name for a contract assassin."

Clint dropped his gaze, tensed and took a few steady breaths as he tried not to panic again. The nightmares he'd been fighting all night had been from his contracts and he didn't need a reminder of what he'd done and who he was. He harboured enough guilt over his past without adding more.

Fury's next words made Clint suspect that the older man really could read his thoughts.

"Barton, we've all done things in our lives we're not proud of, me included. The only way to stay sane is to learn to live with the guilt and not let it drag you down, instead you have to concentrate on the present and make sure you don't make those mistakes again. I can't think of anyone in SHIELD who doesn't carry some regret over something in their past and who are working every day to try to do some good for the world regardless of their personal history."

When Clint had himself under control again he suddenly wondered why the Director was here. Surely it wasn't just to give him a pep talk about how to handle guilt, Clint had been dealing with his guilt alone for years and wasn't about to ask for help now.

"Is there any reason in particular that you are here for _sir_? I seem to remember Coulson telling me that most people sleep at night. Unless _you're_ the robot and Coulson's actually the human?"

Fury cracked a grin; Clint just stared at him as if the other man had suddenly grown wings and flown away. Fury chuckled and that actually made Clint's mouth drop open slightly, the stunned look on his face was priceless and not something that Nick would forget in a hurry.

"I do have a sense of humour Barton, not many people know that but it's there. I just don't find a lot to laugh about these days. And yes, I did come up to this cold, hard, empty roof for a reason. I wanted to talk to you in private where we couldn't be overheard by anyone as I want to ask you something important. First though I want to talk about your eye test results. Do you have any idea if your vision's natural or has somehow been enhanced?"

Clint's brow creased as he frowned at the Directors question.

"Why the hell wouldn't it be natural?"

"I'm not saying it isn't, I'm just asking if it's always been like that."

"I don't ever remember it being any different to what it is now. Why? Do you think I'm some version of Captain America with super sight? News flash, I'm no hero."

"Neither am I Barton and that isn't what I was insinuating with that sentence. I'm not like Phil, I don't believe in heroes like he does; I've seen too much of the world and what humanity can do to each other for that. I've just never heard of anyone else possessing the degree of visual acuity you do and apparently neither had the eye doctor so it is a possible explanation of why your vision is so good. Of course it could just be natural but the fact your eyes are so similar to a bird's does makes me wonder."

Clint frowned heavily as he glared at the Director. It was like staring at a whitewashed brick wall. He didn't budge an inch and was completely unreadable; Clint really hated the fact that he couldn't read Fury or Coulson.

"You're saying my eyes are some hybrid resulting from what exactly? And what do you mean Coulson believes in heroes?"

"Phil and I have known each other for a long time and for as long as I remember Phil has always been old fashioned and held to the idea that normal people can be heroes if they really want to. He is an obsessive Captain America fan boy and owns enough of his comic books to fill the entire SHIELD base, there is a reason he keeps them off site."

"You seriously didn't know that? After all the time you are spending with him studying I am surprised you didn't pick up on it. Phil will talk about Captain America to anyone who stays still long enough to listen. Obviously you didn't pick that up which somewhat surprises me. You're not stupid and Phil's fan boy persona is kind of obvious."

"Who says I'm not stupid? I've been told that I'm dumb my whole life. What makes you say I'm not after everyone I've ever met in my life has said otherwise?"

Fury was unflustered by Clint's outburst and answered calmly.

"The results of your IQ test tell me you're not stupid Barton. Did Coulson tell you what they were?"

Clint blinked, somewhat a taken back at that question.

"No."

Fury frowned internally at that. He thought Phil would have told the boy the results but he apparently hadn't.

"Do you want to know?"

Clint shrugged as he turned his gaze to Fury.

"Whatever."

"I'll take that as a yes. You tested at an IQ of 144. Genius level is anything over 160, while anything over 130 is considered very smart. Whatever people told you in the past you aren't dumb Barton. You are far from dumb. Anyone can see that and if they can't then they're an idiot."

Clint blinked.

"My IQ is 144? That's not possible!"

"It apparently is because that's what you tested at. So stop thinking you're stupid Barton, you are far from stupid. You are smarter than many of our active field agents are, don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise. I don't need an agent who will drown in self-pity thinking they are stupid when they have one of the highest IQ scores I've seen in a long time."

Clint was mouthing the words 'I'm not stupid, I have an IQ of 144' over and over to himself as he tried to take in everything that Fury had just told him. It was a lot to take in, especially when it was coming from the Director of SHIELD himself.

Fury let him do that for a few minutes before he spoke again.

"There is a very specific reason I came up here Barton. I want to talk to you without anyone knowing I did, it is a very important matter and I don't know if I can really trust you but I do know I currently can't trust anyone in SHIELD so you are my last resort if I have a chance of stopping this."

Clint gave Fury his full attention at that, contrary to popular belief he was capable of listening if the person talking deserved his attention and it interested him enough. Fury definitely fitted into both of those categories right now.

Nick looked at the boy sitting all alone on the roof of the compound because he couldn't sleep at night. What really struck him about the picture was how young Barton was, he wasn't even twenty yet. But his posture and bearing belonged to someone much older, someone who had seen and experienced more violence and hardships in his nineteen years than most people did in a lifetime.

It actually made Fury feel a bit sorry that he was about to add more weight to an already hard to bear load, but he had no choice in the matter so he pushed those feelings away and concentrated on the boy sitting over from him as he looked Barton in the eye.

"Long story short, I think that there is a traitor within SHIELD. I need your help finding them."

* * *

 **End of chapter 5.**

* * *

 **(Evil chuckle)**

 **I said things picked up in chapter 5. I'll say no more, you'll just have to wait for a few days until the next chapter goes up. In the meantime I'll love to know what you're thinking right now!**

 **Next time:**

 _ **Chapter 6: Of Traitors and Spies**_

 **Please don't die of suspense before then!**

 **NOTE: Don't worry if the whole thing with Clint's eyes doesn't make any sense. It's not really supposed to. Just accept his eyes are strange and his eyesight is exceptional and move on. The information regarding composition of eyes is as factual as I could possibly make it, I used five different websites in my research and some are scholarly sources, I just meshed all the information together to make it sound science-y. If anyone is interested in the sites just let me know and I will send the addresses but I'm betting most people won't be interested which is why I'm not giving them here. Well, that and the fact that web addresses are a pain to try and put in any document on fanfiction. The automatic filters do all sorts of weird and wonderful things to them.**


	6. Of Traitors and Spies

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **As promised I am back in the middle of the week for another update. Saturday's chapter caused quite a bit of a stir if reviews are anything to go by, I promise that it gets better!**

 **Reviewers of chapter 5: CrazedfFangirl13, Batghost, amy. d. fuller. 9, Armand, Death is Inevitable and meriadoc33.**

 **Thank you all!**

 **Also, special thanks goes to jaguarspot for the beta.**

 **Because of spoilers I have made more comments in the note at the end.**

 **And so, we officially enter what I have dubbed as the 'traitor arch' which will be the underlying theme of the next few stories as they won't find out who it is in this story. I hope nobody despairs at this bit of news but rest assured that I have big plans for this idea that will have long term ramifications for everyone across the whole universe. It will certainly be worth the wait.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved. _George MacDonald_

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Of Traitors and Spies**

Silence reigned on the roof for a moment until Fury's words really sunk in. When Clint processed exactly what Fury had just said his mouth fell open and he stared at Fury with an expression of pure shock on his face.

"Say again?"

Fury looked grave.

"I suspect that there is someone in SHIELD who's selling classified secrets to Hydra, AIM and pretty much anyone else who will pay enough for them. I don't know who it is, which division they are located in, or what clearance level they are. All I know is that classified Intel has made its way into enemy hands at least five times over the past year, compromising missions and costing me the lives of several good agents. I've been digging around for the last six months myself looking for a leak and have come up empty-handed. Whoever is doing this, they are good, really good."

Clint was still busy processing what Fury had just told him.

"Someone is selling SHIELD secrets and you don't know who?"

"That's the gist of it, yes."

Clint was still trying to make sense of Fury's request. Before he could think about it the question popped out.

"Why do you want me to look into it and not someone who is more qualified and that you actually trust? Because I've got in on good faith that I'm not trustworthy."

Clint could have kicked himself the instant the words left his mouth. Fury was not the least put off.

"The reason I can't ask anyone else who's in SHIELD to look into this problem is because I have no idea who is doing it and I don't want to scare them off, I want to catch them in the act. Up until about three weeks ago you didn't have any affiliation to SHIELD or anyone in it that I am aware of, and believe me I looked very hard, and so you are the perfect person to look into this for me. No one will suspect you of being a double agent."

"You are naturally distrusting of everyone and suspicious of anything that is new, those qualities are perfect for what I want you to do here."

Clint was following what Fury said very closely.

"So what is it that you actually are asking me to do? It sounds an awful lot like you want me to betray SHIELD."

"I am asking you to observe mostly. Even though you don't know many people and perhaps don't even know how they naturally act I think you may have a better chance of finding out information than me. It would look suspicious if I started hanging around listening to gossip. You, on the other hand, will be able to do that."

"The number one rule here is don't arouse suspicion; no matter what happens I don't want this mission blown. I know that you are a soldier, not a spy, and that this is a spy's world. I'm not saying it will be easy, it won't. A spy's life is never easy. I know the life of a soldier isn't easy either but it is easier than what I am asking you to do here. Also, in my opinion you won't be betraying SHIELD by doing this, rather you'll be helping to stop someone who definitely isn't loyal to the organisation and seeks to cause harm instead."

"So Barton, are you up to the challenge? Can you do this for me?"

Clint's mouth was hanging open in shock at everything Fury had just said. It took a while for him to actually find his voice and even longer to form a coherent response to Fury's question.

"Take your time and decide; I'm not going anywhere just yet. The last thing I want you to do in this instance is make a bad decision."

Clint nodded gratefully as he continued to mull over Fury's earlier words.

There was a traitor in SHIELD; for some reason that made Clint's blood boil. He hated traitors and disloyalty; he had never been anything but loyal to so many people who had never deserved it and would have died for some of them. He certainly would have died for his brother. It took almost being killed by his brother's own hand to realise the only thing Barney felt for him was hatred and jealousy. It had been a cruel blow to Clint's absolute faith in his brother.

Now Fury was asking him to find a traitor within SHIELD. In spite of what he was and who he was the Director himself was placing trust in Clint, however misplaced and misguided a choice that might be. Clint had felt grateful to Coulson for given him a chance to turn his life around by joining SHIELD; but it was nothing to the respect and admiration he now felt for Fury.

Fury freely admitted he didn't trust Clint an inch but had nowhere else to turn as he trusted SHIELD even less at this point. He was asking the last person in the world he should be trusting with anything to do something that if found out could compromise national security, Clint was well aware of what SHIELD did.

It was a crazy gamble and if it failed could probably start World War three ahead of its time. The sensible thing to do would be to say no but sensible had never really been a word that belonged in Clint's vocabulary. Finally making a decision Clint looked up at Fury.

"What do I have to do and what should I look out for? I don't know much about normal people."

"Barton, no SHIELD agent is normal; if they were they wouldn't be agents, possessing some level of insanity is practically a pre-requisite for joining up. So you'll do this? Remember, it's a highly classified mission that if found out could potentially result in death or imprisonment for one or both of us."

Clint's eyes grew even wider.

"How is that sir?"

Barton's voice didn't even have any sarcasm in it, the sir sounded genuine for the first time ever. Fury looked Clint in the eye gravely as he told him the reasons this mission was so risky.

"I suspect the World Security Council, or at least one of its members, is aware of the leak and are possibly supporting them. None of what we are doing can reach their ears. One member in particular was very resistant to you coming on board, it also happens to be the one member that I don't like and who doesn't listen to anyone. I will tell you his name as he could potentially cause trouble for us both if the slightest hint of any of this gets back to him. His name is Henry Anderson."

"It might be nothing but I can't trust anyone in SHIELD at the moment, anyone from the interns down in accounting to the World Security Council could be selling Intel, the only person I don't actively suspect is Coulson and even so I can't share this with him. I trust him explicitly, in fact I trust him more than I trust you Barton so bear that in mind, but for reasons I won't name I can't tell him about this just yet."

"So you are willing to do this? Knowing that if you are found out it could end badly for both of us? Knowing that if anyone finds out about me it could also end badly? I don't know if you are aware but you are potentially risking your career and possibly your life here Barton, the Council has a lot of power and whoever is doing this is good. I won't ask you again Barton, and I want your honest answer. Are you absolutely sure that you want to do this?"

Clint looked Fury in the eye without blinking and said one word, one word that could ultimately determine his future and his fate.

"Yes."

Fury cracked a smile. Clint stared at him which only made Fury grin even more maniacally.

"Welcome to my life of secrets and spies Barton."

* * *

Fury looked Clint in the eye and held his gaze as he told him what he wanted Clint to do.

"I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, listen to gossip and look for anyone acting strangely. If you ever need to verify _anything_ at all, no matter how trivial it may seem to you, get in touch with me _immediately_. I will give you the number to my personal cell phone that almost no one knows I actually have. You will be able to get in touch with me any time of the day or night that way, no matter what happens."

Clint nodded as he filed all this away.

"Okay, what about a phone for me? Or do I just use whatever's available?"

"Unfortunately I can't issue you with your own phone at this point without it looking suspicious so you are going to have to use whatever's available until you have passed training. I believe that Coulson's planning to send you to the Academy after you've finished getting your GED; I want you to keep an eye open for any trouble there which is why I am telling you this now. The secrets that have been leaked were classified from levels three to seven so I really have no idea who is doing it."

"It could potentially be anyone. There also could be more than one person in on it so keep alert Barton. Get in touch with me immediately if you find out anything. Also, ask lots of questions. You're new here, people won't think that it's odd you wanting to know how things work. Your obsession with air vents is also a plus in this situation, you will be able to listen to gossip and conversations without people realising that you are. In this instance Barton, I am authorising you to do that, if you hear anything that doesn't seem quite right whether in general gossip or through eavesdropping you know what to do, don't you?"

Clint nodded instantly.

"Yes, immediately get in touch with you and tell you what I found out. Got it."

"Good. Okay, I'm going to tell you my number now. I want you to memorise it as there must be no record of this meeting ever having taken place."

Nick made sure the kid thoroughly memorised the number to call if he had any information that could be useful and the codes to give so he could get in touch with Fury no matter what happened or where he was. Once he was completely satisfied Barton had them committed to memory Fury had one last piece of advice to give the young archer before he left.

"Barton, I know that you are not trained as a spy yet. I know that you are a sniper and assassin first and foremost and largely self-taught on that last one. But I also know that you have the determination and real life experience to do what I am asking you to do here in spite of that. You understand deception and not getting caught in the act and those are among the two greatest qualities that make a spy successful. You not only understand those qualities but you can work with them and do them yourself. Self doubt is a spy's worst enemy. Do you understand what I am saying here?"

Clint nodded hesitantly.

"Yes sir, I think that I do understand what you are saying. Whatever my feelings about myself are I have to ignore them and focus on getting the job done regardless of what happens. I can't show weakness and self-doubt or people will take advantage of it. Believe me, I get it."

Fury sighed. It actually saddened him that one so young could display that much wisdom. It was a testament to what Barton's life had been like that he possessed the wisdom of someone more than twice his age.

"I knew you would. Our life experiences aren't that dissimilar Barton, they've taught us both skills that many other people will never have and have shaped us to be who we are today. You are new to the whole spy game though so remember if you ever need help that I'm just a phone call away. I seriously don't want you getting yourself killed just because you weren't sure of something."

Clint nodded as he absorbed everything the Director had just told him, it was a lot to take in. Clint couldn't help but feel an immense sense of pride that Fury would ask for his help and trust him to keep his secrets. It was probably the first time in his life that someone had trusted him like this and Clint wasn't about to let Fury down if he could help it. Fury, however, wasn't finished talking just yet.

"I am putting a great deal of trust in you Barton when I have barely known you for three weeks and certainly don't trust you in any other way. Know that if you betray me everything you have gone through in your life that has given you those scars you carry will pale into insignificance in the face of what I will do to you. You betray me and you'll wish you had died in that explosion, you remain loyal and I will help in any way I can. Loyalty goes both ways with me Barton; I want you to always remember that."

Clint knew betrayal better than he knew loyalty, in spite of that he knew in an instant that he would rather die a slow and painful death than let the first person who had truly believed in him and trusted him down. He'd always known his life would most likely end in bloodshed; maybe this way when the time inevitably came he might at least be able to die with a purpose and his life would have meant something.

"I know that whatever I say to you probably won't be believed and I know that you don't trust me and I don't blame you for that. But I want you to know I am grateful that you are at least giving me a chance to earn that trust. I won't let you down sir; I would rather die than let you down."

On hearing those words Fury knew instinctively that he had read Barton correctly and done the right thing placing trust in him. Fury smiled to himself as he got up to leave. Just before he did however he looked back at Barton sitting alone on the edge of the roof and held eye contact. The kid held his gaze without flinching, a determination and pride evident in his gaze that hadn't been there before.

"That's all I'm asking for Barton, that you prove to me I didn't make a mistake when I supported Coulson and saved you from the death penalty by pulling you out of that prison."

* * *

Two days after his talk with Fury Clint was laying in an air vent in the hospital wing of SHIELD instead of being in Coulson's office doing lessons. Coulson was far too busy dealing with a blown op that had resulted in five civilian deaths with at least another dozen civilians injured and hospitalized. The agents assigned to the op had all managed to escape with only a few broken bones and one of them had a particularly nasty concussion but they hadn't suffered from anything that wouldn't heal in time.

Coulson hadn't been the handler on the op but had been drafted in to help sort out all the paperwork that the aftermath had generated. It had meant that Clint's lessons were cancelled for the day and he found himself with nothing definite to do for perhaps the first time since coming to SHIELD.

Melinda May had been on that op, she didn't have a concussion but her broken arm meant she wouldn't be sparing with Clint for a while. Clint looked down at May lying unconscious under the covers in the room below him; he could see the rise and fall of her chest as the machines beeped steadily as she slept. It looked wrong, her dark skin contrasted sharply against the white sheets and it didn't help that she was pale and not moving.

From what Clint had found out about the op from listening to the grapevine of gossip was that Hydra had known exactly where the SHIELD agents would be and had effectively lured then into a trap, it was only because of May's quick thinking and even faster actions that the other agents weren't all dead. They were injured but should all recover with time.

Observing the result of the blown op Clint couldn't help but remember what Fury had told him a couple of nights ago up on the roof about his suspicions that there was a traitor somewhere in SHIELD. This whole situation was certainly very suspicious though the op hadn't been anything particularly remarkable as far as Clint was aware, an elimination of the leader of a drug trafficking ring had been the primary objective, three agents had been assigned the mission as the target took a heavy security detail with him wherever he went.

It should have been simple yet somehow Hydra had known about it and almost succeeded in killing the SHIELD agents.

Given what Fury had told him a couple of days ago if that didn't scream 'traitor' to the skies Clint didn't know what did.

May was one of the few people who had been nice to Clint from the first time they'd met, he actually liked her and had even spoken to her a little when they spared though she was the one who normally did any talking, and even then it was mostly to point out what he was doing wrong. Seeing her lying pale and still in a hospital bed only made Clint more determined than ever to catch whoever was selling SHIELD secrets and make them pay. He was fed up with seeing people he liked get hurt and the perpetrators getting away scot free, this time he at least felt that there was something he could do to help stop it.

May wouldn't be awake until the day after tomorrow at the earliest; the doctors wanted to give her body a chance to at least start to recover before she woke up and demanded to be discharged. Clint had learned from his hiding spot in the vents that May wasn't very good with the term 'bed rest', she'd once sparred with a broken leg and still won Clint learned from listening to the nurses gossip, but in the process she'd put her recovery back four weeks. They didn't want that to happen again though Clint had silently applauded her efforts even as his reluctant admiration for the other agent grew.

Taking one last look at the still figure lying in the too-white hospital bed Clint retreated back into his private maze and headed towards Coulson's office. He hadn't had much opportunity to spy on the older man and hadn't mapped out that portion of the vent system very well yet so now might be a good time to see what the Agent was doing. After all, Fury had asked Clint to keep his ears and eyes open for any hint of who the traitor might be; even though Fury didn't think it was Coulson Clint thought he might be able to uncover some Intel about the op by spying on the agent.

* * *

Phil was extremely tired and stressed out about the whole situation, the blown op and the mountain of paperwork that had resulted was the least of his worries. Right now three agents were in medical, over a dozen civilians were injured and about eight more were dead. Fury had asked Phil to help sort this out and of course Phil had said yes and cancelled Barton's lessons for today giving the boy a day off. He was going so well that one day wasn't going to make any difference with his studies at this point.

Failed ops were always hard to deal with, especially when people died for no reason other than things went wrong and they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. May had been running point and their handler had been on comms the whole time but none of that had prevented or even prepared them for the explosion that had brought a building down on top of a little outdoor cafe in Mexico City in the middle of the lunch hour. After reading the police reports of the incident Phil was left wondering how on earth May had managed to get herself and the other two agents out with only fairly minor injuries. He probably wouldn't know until she was awake and had turned in her own report on the situation.

He'd visited May in medical of course; even though she was unconscious there was no way he'd just leave one of his friends alone after something like that. Medical was keeping May unconscious to help her arm heal a little bit before she was up and at it. It had been hard seeing her lying there so still and pale.

Phil didn't know how Hydra had known about the op, they weren't even one hundred percent sure that it was Hydra who was responsible but it certainly fit their MO. Ruin a SHIELD operation and take out a whole bunch of innocent civilians in one go. This wasn't the first time it had happened either, there was always the risk that an op would go sideways but these milk-runs shouldn't. The mission parameters had been easy and it was mostly intended to be a training exercise for May as she was still learning how to be a field team leader. After her actions on this mission Phil was pretty sure she'd pass the assessment with flying colours and be made a team leader permanently, after what she'd done there was no doubt she was qualified for it and was prepared to keep her team safe at all costs.

Just then Phil's phone rung, the caller ID read 'Fury'. Phil sighed, wondering what his boss wanted him to do now. Picking up the phone Phil answered as he always did when Fury called.

"Sir."

The fact that Fury didn't correct him was the first sign that something was wrong.

"Coulson, I think you should come to my office immediately. It's about Barton."

That got Phil's attention.

"What's about Barton?"

"Come and see. I need you to help me sort this one out."

* * *

Phil arrived at Fury's office in record time to find a very pissed off Agent Conway, a glowering and defiant probationary agent/master assassin and a glaring Director Fury. Great, just when he thought his day couldn't get any worst the universe had to go and prove him wrong. Phil was seriously starting to wonder what he'd done in a previous life to deserve this; it must have been something really bad.

Glancing between the three of them Phil put on his best no-nonsense look as he fastened his eyes on Fury.

"What happened?"

Conway beat Fury to saying anything.

"This little shit here is what's happened. Thanks to him the roof of my office is now part of the floor and I'll never get the dust out of my carpet or my suit, this suit wasn't cheap you know. WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY ROOF?!"

This last line was shouted and directed at Barton whose glare intensified, judged from the expressions on everyone's faces he'd clamed up and hadn't been talking which was irritating Conway even further.

Phil didn't know Conway that well. The man had been part of SHIELD for about three years and had risen quickly through the ranks to gain an administrative position within the organisation, unlike many other's he hadn't put in the hard work in the field to get to that position but had somehow still managed to achieve it.

Phil seriously wondered how he'd gotten this far, the other man's personality didn't lend itself to being very tolerant of things if they weren't done his way. He liked having a say in things and being in complete control at all times which meant he was the one usually left to deal with the political and public problems the organisation faced, despite his attitude he was very good at his job. He was officially second-in-command of the Damage Control department but everyone knew he was unofficially running it.

Phil suspected there was some big factor he wasn't aware of that ensured Conway kept his place here regardless of what he did as nobody Phil knew actually liked him. The man was controlling and ready to verbally abuse anyone who did something he didn't like or who disagreed with his methods. He liked everything to be under his control and when things inevitably went wrong everyone knew to steer clear of him. He was in charge of covering up the public side of this whole Mexico City fiasco and so understandably wasn't in the best mood at the moment.

They certainly didn't have Barton under control which wasn't helping; in fact he was practically the poster boy for out-of-control. Phil didn't know if he'd ever be able to be controlled by anyone and so could see where Conway was coming from with his anger.

However, yelling at the boy wasn't going to accomplish anything or sort this whole mess out.

It was just going to cause everyone stress and not do any of them any good whatsoever.

Phil sidled over to the Director as Conway continued to rant at Barton. Quietly he spoke to him.

"What exactly happened that's bad enough that you felt you had to call me sir?"

Fury gave a sigh that was so faint that no one but Phil heard it.

"I called you because I want you to take Barton with you and keep an eye on him while I sort out Conway and his office. Barton apparently was in the roof there and it caved in, depositing him almost on top of Conway's desk. As you can see, that didn't go down very well."

Yes, Phil could certainly see that.

Fury clapped his hands sharply to get everyone's attention and even then it took the full force of Fury's presence to make Conway stop his ranting for a moment and actually look at the Director.

"Barton, you are going to go with Coulson to his office so he can keep an eye on you, I'll deal with you later. Conway, I'm coming with you now to sort this mess out and get you a temporary office if needed until yours is repaired. Coulson, get him out of here."

Phil grabbed the arm of the still glaring assassin before Conway could protest and tried to tow him towards the door. Barton wasn't having any of that however and pulled his arm out of Coulson's grip with a glare but he followed regardless so Phil counted that as a win for him. Phil was glad to leave the shouting Conway and the deadly calm Director behind them as he led Barton to his own office.

Once they'd arrived and were safely inside Phil turned to give Barton the same longsuffering look that he'd received from Fury more than once in his life. Having been on the receiving end of that glare for many years Phil had mastered it himself down to a fine art.

"What _were_ you thinking Barton? Seriously, were you even thinking?"

The kid didn't answer and refused to look at Phil, instead staring at the ground, balling his hands into fists at his sides as he did so. Phil sighed, it hadn't escaped his notice in Fury's office that the kid's eye's carried that same flight or fight look that had been there the first time they'd met in Paris, it hadn't been around much the last week or so but this incident had brought it all back.

Phil decided he had best get to the bottom of this before Fury got back. He knew the basics of what had happened thanks to Conway but wanted to hear Barton's side of the story.

"Come on Barton, talk to me. I can't help you if you won't talk; I need to know what you were doing when you fell into Conway's office. When I gave you the afternoon off I thought you'd spend it at the range or something, not crawling around in the ceiling."

Barton glared at Phil, anger evident in every line of his body but he still adamantly refused to say a word, instead looking sullen and sulky as he glowered at the room in general. Phil decided to ignore him until he was ready to answer Phil's questions and sat down at his desk and packed the files he'd been working on away where Barton couldn't see them. He didn't have the clearance to know all the details about the op and Phil wasn't going to be able to work with the glare that was being levelled at him anyways.

That done he looked at Barton who still hadn't moved or changed his expression and mentally sighed. Sitting down in his chair Phil placed his chin in his hands and stared contemplatively at the sniper.

"Barton, I'm not angry with you, in fact I'm kind of amused. That it happened to Conway of all people is unfortunate and he certainly won't like you for it but then he doesn't like anyone so it doesn't really make much difference. Why did you do it?"

Barton looked at him with a rebellious look in his eye before they took on a hard edge. At Coulson's last sentence his whole countenance suddenly changed, making him look at least thirty years old. It was unnerving to say the least, he went from prey to predator in a second and when he spoke it was in the voice of Hawkeye, not Clint Barton.

"You're all acting like I meant to do it, I didn't. I was just crawling through the air vents when they suddenly caved in. I didn't plan to fall into Conway's office and then get marched to the Directors office being yelled at the whole way. How was I to know the vents in that part of the complex weren't reinforced?"

Barton's glare was cold and hard. It went beyond a sniper's glare; it was the emotionless glare of an experienced killer. It shocked Phil like nothing had for a long time. He hadn't experienced this side of the boy before, though calling him a boy didn't do Barton justice right at this moment.

At this moment he looked to be at least as old as Phil was and about five times deadlier. Over the last couple of weeks Phil had actually forgotten several times that Barton was an assassin, and a world class one at that, due to his general appearance. His body language was inclined to be threatening but then most field Agents did give off a vibe, May was a prime example. This was something else entirely and reminded Phil once again just who he was dealing with.

Hawkeye.

The assassin whose kill count ran into triple digits and that was only the ones they actually knew about. The assassin who had been running around loose all over the world for the last eighteen months doing whatever he wanted.

Conway must have really gotten to Barton to bring this side of him out. Even in Paris and the prison Phil hadn't seen this.

Phil stood up; making sure his sidearm could easily be reached but was out of sight as he faced the assassin. Phil was careful to keep his distance and not to appear threatening; he didn't want to made Barton feel threatened, he just wanted to make sure he was in control of the situation.

"Barton, I've already told you that I'm not angry with you so I really don't know why you are being so defensive towards me. I want to know what happened from your point of view so I can adequately deal with the situation when Fury returns and wants to know what happened."

Barton didn't lose his threatening demeanour but he did look Coulson in the eye as he spoke in a hard voice.

"Why would you want to know my version of events? Conway's more than happy to tell you what happened, I'm sure he's told the Director the whole story by now."

Phil didn't back down or give any sign of being uncomfortable with what was happening as he gave Barton a bland look.

"I don't know if you were ever taught this but there are at least two sides to every story Barton, and to adequately assess a situation we need all the facts to begin with. I'm not saying you weren't in the wrong doing what you were doing but I need your view on things before I can pass judgement on what happened."

Phil blinked as he finished speaking and in that instance the master assassin was gone, replaced with the pissed off young man that Phil was far more familiar with. It was even more disturbing than the first transformation had been. He went from predator back to normal in _less_ than a second.

It was enough to freak a great deal of people in SHIELD out, which was saying something given the sort of people the organisation generally employed. Phil made a mental note to talk to Fury about it later as it could prove to be a problem in the future if Barton wasn't handled right.

Right now, Phil was just glad that he'd averted disaster.

Phil sat down in his chair again and nodded to the one on the other side of the desk.

"Now that we've got that sorted would you mind sitting down and telling me your version of events? Fury will want to know the details when he arrives and it will save time later if you tell me everything now."

Barton gave Phil a look that was borderline glaring but did sit down in the aforementioned chair which Phil counted as a point in his favour.

"I didn't mean to fall through the roof you know, I haven't had a problem before now and I still don't know why that section was weak enough that it caved in with me in it. I wasn't spying on him or doing any of the things Conway implied I was doing, I was honestly as surprised as he was when I landed in his office but he didn't give me an opportunity to explain, he just pulled a gun on me and yelled bloody murder before marched me to the boss's office."

Phil felt like face palming and was very proud when he masterfully managed to resist the urge. Barton was slumped in the chair and now looked and sounded just like a sulky teenager who'd been marched to the principal's office after he'd been caught kicking a ball through a window at school. Phil thought the actual events were kind of a SHIELD version of that kind of thing; unfortunately it wasn't as easy to sort out as the real version would be.

Phil didn't know how Fury was going to sort this mess out, on second thoughts he probably wasn't going to. Phil suddenly had a terrifying thought that it was going to be left to him to pick up the pieces.

* * *

Fury had finally sorted out Conway and was on his way back to his office to think about what to do with Barton. The kid certainly had succeeded in making a mess of Conway's office and something needed to be done about it but Fury didn't know how he was supposed to handle this. Any punishment he handed to the kid could backfire on him and Barton was jumpy and distrusting enough as it was. Not that distrusting SHIELD was necessarily a bad thing, heck Fury didn't even trust SHIELD and he was the Director of the damn organisation not that he actually told anyone that first bit.

Barton had the makings of a damn fine agent in him. Fury recognised the same kind of potential in Barton that had originally led him to recruit Phil all those years ago. The problem was Barton was more unpredictable and uncontrollable than Coulson had ever been and Coulson had been bad. As Nick closed the door to his office behind him he remembered one incident in particular that succeeded in making him smile.

* * *

 _ **Saudi Arabia/Iraq border; First Persian Gulf War; December 1990:**_

" _WHAT the hell where you thinking?"_

 _Fury almost dragged Phil into the tent that was serving as his temporary office on site. Once they were inside Nick practically threw the boy into a vacant chair before he rounded on the hapless sniper; Phil actually cringed at the glare he received._

" _ **WHAT**_ _on earth possessed you to do something so stupid_ _ **COULSON**_ _?!"_

 _Phil winced at the volume and the fact that Fury only ever used his surname these days when he was really mad at him. They had progressed to a first name basis ages ago but Nick was currently too angry and upset to bother with that after what Phil had done. Phil tried opening his mouth to say something but Fury didn't let him get a word in._

" _Or what weren't you thinking? For pete's sake you are twenty-two years old, not five! Where you even got a smoke bomb in the first place I don't know which is bad enough in itself, but to sneak into the Commanders personal tent and chuck it under his bed while he was sleeping on it was sheer lunacy! Honestly Phil, what were you thinking?! Do you have any idea just how serious this is?"_

 _Phil just shrugged and avoided Fury's gaze as he shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair. Fury continued to glare at him but there was desperation in his gaze now as well as anger._

" _Honestly Phil, pranking a superior like that is not funny, if it had have been anyone else it might have been funny but Commander Johnson! Honestly, of all the people in camp you had to prank the one person who totally hates your guts! He is going to make sure that you are disciplined over this and there is nothing I can do about it. Why would you do something so stupid?"_

 _Fury finally stopped for breath and glared at Phil expectantly._

" _Why, for pete's sakes, did you do it Phil?"_

 _Phil didn't quite know the answer to that question himself except for the fact that he hadn't been able to sleep and was bored with nothing to do as almost everyone else was sleeping. He'd had the smoke bomb in his possession for a while and had decided on the spur of the moment to prank Johnson with it. In retrospect it probably wasn't his best thought out plan, and getting caught trying to get away definitely wasn't a part of the plan._

 _He told Fury as much and the older man closed his eyes briefly before opening them and looking at Phil again with exasperation but something akin to understanding in his gaze._

" _When will you grow up Phil? Seriously, they are going to come down on you hard over this due to the nature of the prank and there is pretty much nothing I can do to stop them, not that I think you don't deserve punishment but I'm not sure any punishment they can think up will actually do you any good as they haven't seemed to so far. You being locked up for weeks won't do either of us any favours at this point either. I'll do what I can to persuade them from doing anything too drastic but it still won't be pleasant. Hopefully being punished will dissuade you from trying anything like this ever again. Or at least ensure that next time you take care not to be caught doing it."_

 _Phil just shrugged as he looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact. Fury rubbed his eyes as he debated what to do next as his initial anger deflated and weariness took its place._

" _As I've been told to keep an eye on you that means you can't go back to your bunk so will have to stay here. Can I trust you to stay here and not get into trouble for a few hours Coulson? If I can't I'll have to handcuff you to the tent pole in my own tent so I know exactly where you are and can keep an eye on you. We'll deal with the consequences of this in the morning when I'm awake; it's only a few hours away after all."_

 _ **End Flashback**_

* * *

Yep, Phil had been a handful in his younger days; Fury had forgotten just how impossible to handle his current star agent had been back then. He'd later explained to Phil that it was the fact he was caught in the act that had him mad, not that he'd been doing it in the first place. Fury was actually amused by Phil's initiative, guts and sheer stupidity in smoke bombing the Commanders tent and had had a good laugh over it once he was by himself, not that he'd ever told anyone.

Despite being a Colonel in rank Fury had been out of the army for over a decade by that time and officially wasn't a part of it anymore. That being the case he hadn't had much say in what happened to Phil as he wasn't active status and Phil was still a part of his military unit. Fury had managed to get Phil off being locked up for a month, but the punishments still hadn't been fun. However, Phil had never been caught in the middle of a prank again and Fury knew for a fact that it hadn't been the last prank he'd pulled so they must have beared some fruit. Four days in solitary in the brig on half rations followed by a week of pulling extra night watches and cleaning the boots of everyone in the camp had obviously been enough to drive the lesson home.

Or maybe it had been the conversations they'd had during those night watches.

Fury, as he was technically responsible for Phil having agreed to look out for him if they let him out of prison for a while, had agreed to pull extra night watches to help out as they were letting the sniper stay around in spite of what he'd done and the fact Johnson hated him purely on Fury's request. Gotta love it when you can pull rank on people, Fury was there publically as a CIA representative and contact and secretly as SHIELD's eyes and ears on the situation and so his opinions couldn't be outright ignored.

He'd purposefully ended up spending most of his night watches with Phil. Those night-time conversations had probably bore more fruit than the punishments had, Coulson had basically been given a 'spying for dummies' crash course that week, with a big emphasis on not getting caught in the act. Fury was sure none of Phil's superiors had been aware of what was really happening during those watches. What they didn't know in this instant possibly could hurt them but Fury didn't care. Phil had initiative and courage, two qualities that Fury admired in a person. He was also partially insane which in Fury's opinion was an added bonus.

Fury doubted any type of punishment would work well on Barton and besides, as he'd told Coulson all the way back then before Phil had officially joined SHIELD or even heard of the organisation, they weren't the military; they were spies. And, as he'd told Barton only a few days ago, spies are very different to soldiers. They handled events very differently, soldiers tend to shoot first and ask questions later, spies tend to do it the other way around.

Or at least they didn't aim to kill with the first shot. It was more a warning. Almost two decades spent spying for the CIA in Europe during the Cold War had taught Fury a lot about how spies operated.

Barton was no stranger to military punishments, the number of reprimands in his service file kind of spoke for him in that regard. Obviously none of the punishments they'd doled out to him had actually worked as the kid had continued doing what he wanted to do and driven everyone slowly insane in the process. Fury wished he'd known the kid back then and being able to recruit him before he'd retreated underground and become an assassin. He knew a lot of Barton's problems and issues likely came from the last eighteen or so months since he'd left the army.

None of which helped him with the situation he was now facing.

Conway was mad at what had happened and wanted to see Barton punished in some way. He was certainly within his rights to want that, the problem was Fury didn't know what to do that wouldn't ruin the little bit of progress the kid had made in the few short weeks he'd been at SHIELD.

Fury sighed as he sat down in his chair and closed his eye. He knew Phil was keeping an eye on the kid, for a moment he was tempted to leave this mess for Phil to sort out but quickly dismissed that notion. This whole situation needed a delicate touch, and as good as Phil was Fury didn't think he currently had the necessary skills to sort this out. No, Fury had to deal with this one himself.

It was a pity the kid couldn't clean up his own mess.

Fury opened his eye and sat up straight at that thought, the answer coming to him at last. It was so obvious Nick didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before, it really was that simple. He supposed it was because in spite of what people claimed he wasn't a mind reader and he didn't have the ability to instantly know what to do in a given situation; he just pretended he did until he'd had time to think up a real plan.

It worked every time; no one ever suspected a thing. On the contrary people thought the Director wasn't actually human because of it and he'd never corrected them. The truth was Fury was human, well, he was mostly human. He certainly possessed some human limitations and wasn't entirely invincible.

Deception, a crucial part of a spy's skill set. Deception and not getting caught in the act, those were the two crucial skills that made a great spy. He'd told Phil as much all those years ago when they'd been pulling their double night watches in temperatures that must have been below freezing and he was confident they wouldn't be overheard because everyone other soul in the camp not on watch was sensibly tucked into a warm bed.

He'd told Barton pretty much the same thing only a few days ago while they were alone on the empty roof of the SHIELD compound late at night.

He frequently told himself the same thing under cover of darkness as he worked hard to keep his real intentions and plans a secret from every living person on earth.

After all, just as dirty laundry should not be aired in public places some secrets should never live to see the light of day.

* * *

 **End of chapter 6.**

* * *

 **Fury's secrets have secrets all right. What Tony said all those years later was more accurate than he probably released.**

 **NOTE: The flashback is probably full of inaccuracies and as I know I've got several readers with military knowledge and actual experience it may read as slightly unbelievable. Please suspend your disbelief and accept it as a necessary part of the story. Also for anyone who is wondering, that particular scene takes place during Through Blood and Fire so it will be expanded on one day. I hope to write the story over my Christmas break but we'll have to see what happens.**

 **Also, the reason Fury doesn't tell Phil about his suspicions yet asks for Clint's help is explored in a later chapter. Fury has a reason of course, he doesn't do anything without a reason which is what makes him such a pain to write. I love his character, don't get me wrong about that, he just has never learnt the meaning of cooperation with a writer.**

 **Next time:**

 _ **Chapter 7: The calm before the storm**_

 **If you have any more questions about this chapter please review or PM me. I will do my best to answer them without giving to much away.**


	7. The calm before the storm

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **I'm back! Sorry I didn't update before now but the last few days have not been easy and I also haven't had much time. After this chapter there will also be a bit of a delay in posting the next one, apologies to all those who are eagerly waiting for more! Fury was being obstinately silent in regards to the edits that were needed in chapter 8 but over the weekend he suddenly decided to start talking to me again and has not shut up since. I'm hoping to have the chapter ready by next weekend so there won't be to long a gap but it might be a little bit closer to a week's time before we get to chapter 8. Fortunately this chapter is a pretty good stand alone one so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story too much.**

 **Thanks to my reviews of chapter 6: amy. d. fuller. 9, CrazedFangirl13 and Armand.**

 **I've been getting some really insightful reviews from lots of different people which has been great. Keep them coming please! It was the reviews that helped be get past the writers block with chapter 8.**

 **As usual thanks goes to jaguarspot for the beta.**

 **Enjoy this chapter. I think we all need a break and time to catch our breath before we go on.**

* * *

Learning to trust is one of life's most difficult tasks. _Isaac Watts_

* * *

 **C** **hapter 7: The calm before the storm**

After they'd finished speaking Coulson decided that Clint could do some studying since he was here and Coulson's responsibility until Fury came back. Clint honestly didn't mind the work but the uncertainty over what was going to happen to him was making it hard to concentrate on reading his history book.

Clint was working his way through one of the practice tests in the GED books when there was a knock on Coulson's door. The Agent looked up from where he was correcting another test as it opened to reveal the Director. Clint's grip on his pencil immediately tightened and he had to force himself to relax his grip and breathe normally as Fury entered. He didn't want to make the man madder than he likely already was.

Fury, however, didn't look the least bit mad. Menacing, secretive and deadly definitely, but that seemed to simply be his natural state. He glanced between Clint and Coulson for a moment without saying a word before his eye came back to rest on Clint.

For a one-eyed man his gaze was truly terrifying. Clint didn't dare to imagine what it would be like with two eyes and tried to ignore the gaze while focusing on his text books. Needless to say it didn't work; Fury's gaze wasn't something that could easily be ignored.

Fury didn't sit down, instead he remained standing and glanced at Phil who didn't say anything before his eyes came back to rest on Clint who felt his heart rate speeding up at the predator look he was receiving. It didn't help that Fury was heaps taller than him and five times as intimidating.

"Care to tell me what inspired you to make a spectacular and unexpected entrance into one of my Agents offices making a huge mess and thoroughly pissing him off in the process Barton?"

Coulson had said that Fury would want to know Clint's side of things, Clint hadn't believed it at the time as virtually no one in his lifehad ever asked for his side of the story when he'd gotten into trouble, they'd always been ready to listen to what the other person had to say but rarely to him. Even in the army he wasn't often listened to, it hadn't helped that he wasn't very good at explaining things in a way that people understood and had had years of people not listening to him to back up the claim that what he had to say didn't matter and no one cared about his opinions.

Except that Fury and Coulson apparently did. When he'd initially agreed to go with them Clint had been sceptical that SHIELD would prove to be different to the army or any other bureaucratic organisation but apparently it was. The proof it was willing to listen to him was standing right in front of him making him very nervous.

Fury was still looking at him, patiently waiting for an answer. Coulson had put the test aside and picked up another one, however Clint could tell he was listening to what was happening because he wasn't actually doing anything but staring at the piece of paper.

Clint decided that he might as well tell Fury what he'd told Coulson. The other man more than likely would tell his boss what Clint had said earlier anyway. At least this way what happened wouldn't have any embellishments added, Clint really hated relaying information second hand. In his experience it inevitably led to trouble which he was usually on the receiving end of.

Providing what he had to say was listened to in the first place that is.

Clint met Fury's gaze with a defiant look as he told him pretty much the same as he'd told Coulson. They'd probably compare notes later anyway.

"I didn't plan on doing any of that. I was simply crawling around in there when the vent I was in suddenly gave out and deposited me on the floor. I couldn't see for the dust and the coughing fit didn't help, before I knew what was happening I was being told to put my hands up and come out slowly if I didn't want to end up full of more holes than the targets on the shooting range after someone has had a bad day. So I did what he asked and he then marched me to you yelling and brandishing his gun at me the whole way. He didn't give me a chance to say or do anything to explain but I wasn't spying on him. I'd never even met him before today."

Clint glared at the Director with a defiant expression, daring him to challenge what he'd said like the majority of people in his life had. Fury however, being the master spy and the exception to everything and everyone Clint had ever met in his life, simply nodded.

"I see."

Clint scowled, he knew it made him look more like a sulky teenager than an international assassin but he couldn't help it. All the emotions he tried to keep suppressed were fighting to take over and he didn't like it one bit. He'd actually scared himself earlier with the strength of his reaction to Coulson's questions, it wasn't the feeling but the fact in that moment he knew he could have killed Coulson if he'd felt threatened enough. Clint was grateful that the Agent had been able to talk him down without things getting physical. He did not need 'murder of a SHIELD agent' on his rap sheet.

"That's all you're going to say? I SEE?"

Fury didn't as much as twitch. Coulson had stopped pretending to read and was now openly looking at them, his expression blank as he watched the scene unfold between Clint and the Director.

"No, I have more to say Barton and if I was you I'd show some respect for the person who could make the rest of your life short and incredibly miserable if you piss me off enough."

Clint glared.

Fury, predictably, ignored it.

That only made Clint glare harder.

It still had no effect.

With the way Fury was looking at him Clint was beginning to sympathise with a goldfish; cornered in a glass tank with nowhere to go and strange eyes staring at you all the time.

Yeh, he could kind of relate to that right at this moment. The only difference was Fury's look was more intimidating than a dozen strangers could ever hope to be.

Fury was speaking again and in spite of himself Clint listened.

"Barton, since you appear to be completely indifferent to what you did here is what I'm going to do. You will pay to replace Conway's suit that was ruined and anything else of his that needs replacing due to this incident. The cost will come out of your pay checks, I don't care that you haven't gotten one yet; when you do it will be used for that. Do you understand?"

Clint nodded shortly, not daring not to agree.

"Yes."

"You will also apologise to Conway and help him set up in his temporary office. You made this mess so it's only fair that you help with the cleaning up of it."

"Do you understand everything I've just told you Barton?"

Clint understood loud and clear and was rather taken back with how minor the punishment was. Fury was still watching him with that same glare that freaked Clint out so he quickly nodded again.

"I understand."

"Good, then I think that we are finished here. You will stay with Coulson for the rest of the afternoon Barton, and you will not leave his sight or do anything without his permission. You can apologise to Conway tomorrow after everyone's calmed down. Coulson, you are relieved from all your current duties and are in charge of overseeing Barton, effective immediately. I'll send someone to pick up the relevant paperwork from you shortly."

Coulson frowned but nodded reluctantly.

"Okay sir, whatever you think is best. You are the boss."

"I am. I want you both to remember that."

Fury turned around and with a billow of black leather was gone; the door clicked shut behind him. Coulson frowned at it for a second and glanced at his watch before turning to look at Clint.

"Well, it looks like we have lessons this afternoon after all. How are you going with that history test?"

* * *

Almost a week passed without any more incidents. Clint apologised to Conway and helped him set up his temporary office; basically he moved furniture all over the place and ended up with more sore muscles than he'd had since starting training. Still, overall Clint counted it as a small price to pay for being allowed to stay at SHIELD without any more consequences.

May woke up from the induced coma and gave her report on what had happened in Mexico City. Clint didn't know the details but the result was May receiving a note of recommendation in her file and a promotion to full-time field team leader. Clint didn't see her around the base much after she was discharged; he actually asked Coulson about it and was told that she was taking enforced medical leave and wouldn't be back on active duty until her wrist healed. Or at least until medical declared her fit for work again.

Clint continued to work steadily at his studies as the date for his exams drew nearer. After learning that Clint knew at least parts of almost a dozen different languages Coulson had said that once the exams were over their language classes at the Academy would help Clint with learning to read and write at least some of the languages he spoke. Clint was actually looking forward to that, more than once he'd wished he could understand what was written on a sign, poster or billboard and knowing the written language, not just the spoken words, would certainly make his job much easier when he had to infiltrate somewhere.

Clint had heard nothing from Fury since the man had overseen him apologising to Conway, directly after it was done he'd disappeared and Clint hadn't heard from him since. That wasn't surprising as he _was_ the master spy and the head of the whole organisation; though Clint would like extra confirmation that their conversation on the roof just over a week ago hadn't been a dream realistically he knew it had been real and that Fury didn't want anyone to know about it so of course he wouldn't say anything. He had to keep his secrets after all.

Clint kept his eyes and ears open for a traitor as per Fury's request but didn't find anything remotely suspicious. It didn't help that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to look for, Fury had said anything that seemed off but with him still being so new to the whole SHIELD thing Clint didn't know what qualified as normal and what didn't. Still, he kept an eye open as he'd given Fury his word and wasn't going to let him down even if it killed him.

After falling into Conway's office Clint was careful where he went in the vent system as he didn't want a repeat performance. He tried to stay away from personal offices and areas where the higher level agents worked, he didn't want to be accused of spying if he was caught and the incident with the ceiling had managed to really shake him up. For someone like him who liked to see and not be seen dropping almost on top of someone who wasn't aware you were even there to begin with wasn't fun and was something that Clint had no wish to repeat.

Overall life at SHIELD proceeded in pretty much the same way that it had before Fury had dropped the bombshell about a traitor on Clint. Clint trained in the mornings in the gym with the other agents before spending a couple of hours under Wilkinson's supervision on the shooting range. He was still at his best when he used the bow but his skills with guns of all descriptions were improving enormously; Wilkinson was trying to think of ways to make weapons training more challenging for Clint but had had to admit defeat, explaining that any upgrades would be expensive if they were even approved to begin with due to the extensive facilities at the Academy being available to any SHIELD agent who wished to use them. Clint was starting to look forward to going there; Wilkinson explained the training they gave was way more challenging than anything on any other base and even their shooting ranges were more impressive, but what interested Clint most was that there was a part of the Academy where they specifically trained snipers for SHIELD. Many of the applicants already had sniper training like Clint did but the course aimed to mimic what they might find out in the field, SHIELD being SHIELD it was vastly different to anything the military or even the CIA taught its snipers.

The afternoon of each day was spent studying with Coulson in his office. Clint, wanting to pass his exams to prove to himself and everyone else in his life that he was more than a stupid uneducated carnie, began working hard on studying in the evenings in the privacy of his bedroom. Clint had always had a good memory and knew the extra hours studying were paying off when he remembered everything he'd learnt and easily passed the mock tests Coulson set for him to do to give him practice for the real ones.

The exams were only three days away when Coulson took Clint off base (at this point he still wasn't allowed off base without a higher level agent as an escort which Clint was pretty sure was code for 'Coulson, you babysit him') for some de-stressing time. At least that's what he said it was for. It probably actually had something to do with it being meatloaf night, Coulson hadn't been kidding when he'd said the stuff was pure evil. After tasting it Clint had understood perfectly what Coulson meant, it still amazed him that some of the agents actually _liked_ it.

* * *

Phil led the way into the small diner with Clint trailing behind looking at everything happening around him with incredible intensity. It was only the second time he'd been off base since he'd been brought in, having been too busy before now to even think about it, and hadn't ever been to this diner. Phil had, it was fairly close to base and saw a lot of activity from SHIELD agents when they got tired of the mess hall food. Tonight thankfully there wasn't a great deal of people there and Phil was able to get them a table in a corner where Clint could have his back to a wall, Phil got a good enough view of the establishment from his seat so he was also happy.

A waitress gave them menus and asked if they would like anything to drink. Phil ordered a sparkling mineral water and Clint took a lifesavers. Phil raised his right eyebrow at the amount of colour and sugar in Clint's choice.

"You do realise that those things are essentially liquid candy don't you Barton? It'll rot your teeth and hype you out."

Barton just rolled his eyes.

"It tastes good. If I need to I'll get false teeth."

Phil just shook his head as the girl came back with their drinks. Once she'd put them down on the table the girl, whose name tag read Emily, waited with a notebook to take their orders. Phil had known since walking into the place what he wanted.

"One steak please, medium rare with a side of garden salad and mashed potato."

Emily looked at Clint after she'd written down Phil's order.

"And what would you like sir?"

"Hamburger with a side of fries please. And ketchup."

The girl, Emily, nodded and after writing down their order left, telling them their food shouldn't take too long.

After they'd finished ordering Phil sat back and sighed as he closed his eyes. It had been a busy few weeks. He opened them after a moment to find Barton looking at him intensely. He smiled at the boy but only received a stony glare in response so raised an eyebrow in question.

"What's the glare for?"

The kids eyes dropped and he licked his lips nervously. Phil waited patiently for Barton to speak. Finally the kid looked up.

"Why are you doing this?"

Phil recognised the suspicious look of mistrust in the boys' eyes and mentally added more things that he would like to do to all those people in his past who had convinced Barton he wasn't worth doing anything for. Phil begged to differ, he saw a lot in Barton but the reason he took him out tonight was very simple.

"I wanted to get away from base and I thought that seeing you aren't allowed to leave without an escort I would see if you wanted to come with me. It will give us both an opportunity to de-stress before your exams start on Monday. Plus, the food here is much nicer than at base. There is only so much stuff you can eat from the mess hall before you need food with real taste."

Now it was Clint's turn to raise an eyebrow in question.

"The meatloaf?"

Coulson actually grimaced, Clint's smirk widened.

"I don't even know why they are still allowed to serve that stuff. One of these days it's going to poison someone, I'm surprised it hasn't already. The food here is much better."

Barton just shrugged as his eyes scanned the diner, analysing for threats. To the casual observer what he was doing wouldn't have even been noticeable, but Phil was an ex-sniper himself and a trained SHIELD Agent to boot; he knew how to look for these things. That Barton was so unassuming about the way he did it was damn impressive and the fact that he didn't have any formal spy training just made it more impressive. Despite what Fury had said to him Phil knew Barton would make a great spy with the right kind of training; he already possessed most of the raw skills that were needed. Given how non-committal Fury had been regarding it when it was suggested Phil decided he would have to convince his boss to train Barton for spy work. After all, having more than one talent was never a bad thing in their line of work.

Barton didn't say much to Phil until their food had arrived and they were busy eating. Phil was about halfway through a steak that actually tasted like it had come from a real cow and wasn't paying a great deal of attention to his companion so the suddenness of Barton's question was just as much of a surprise as the question itself was.

"I heard that you like Captain America. Is that true?"

Phil blinked at the boy, unable to say anything with his mouth full of steak; the boy had already finished his hamburger and had started on the fries. After he'd swallowed Phil took a sip of his drink before frowning at the question.

"Yes, I do like Captain America. Why do you want to know?"

"No real reason."

But Phil wasn't letting it sit at that. Not given the suddenness of the question and the way it was asked. Besides he was genuinely curious as to why the kid would ask him that question, it was common knowledge around SHIELD that he was a mega Captain America fan boy.

"Yes there is a reason you wanted to know Barton. It's common knowledge around SHIELD that I like Captain America and I can't imagine that you haven't heard it spoken about, especially hanging around with May. We both know there is a deeper reason to your question and you are going to tell me that reason or I won't buy you any dessert."

The boy blinked.

"You're buying me dessert?"

"If you tell me what made you say what you did just now then yes, I will buy you dessert. I give you my word."

Phil had planned on buying dessert anyway and felt slightly mean saying this but given the way the kid would constantly stonewall when he was asked questions in this instance giving him a bit of incentive wouldn't go astray. Barton didn't say anything for a moment and Phil went back to eating. He'd taken another two mouthfuls before the boy spoke again.

"Does that mean you believe in superheroes? Captain America was a superhero."

Phil looked across the table at the young assassin whose intense look managed to give away none of what he was thinking. However the simple question carried an implication that the subject was one that went bone deep for the young man so rather than rushing into the subject without thinking Phil chose his next words very carefully.

"I believe in heroes Barton, superheroes are in a different category. What most people don't know is that Captain America wasn't always Captain America; he was originally a skinny kid called Steven Rodgers who came from Brooklyn and wanted to help people and do the right thing. He didn't have the strength or skills to make that happen but regardless of that still managed to join the military where he participated in experiments that turned him into Captain America. After that he formed the Howling Commandos and alongside his faithful sidekick Bucky Barnes went on to defeat the Red Skull and end the Second World War with America being the victor."

"He was a hero Barton; he served his country, saved people and always did the right thing by those involved. I'm not sure if he counts as a superhero but he was most definitely a hero."

* * *

Clint listened to all this with a slight frown. Captain America hadn't always been Captain America? But then how...

Clint rested his chin on his hands and fastened his gaze on Coulson, who predictably didn't flinch under the intense scrutiny he was currently receiving.

"How did Captain America come about then if he wasn't born that way?"

Coulson frowned.

"You didn't read the Agent handbook that I gave you? You seriously don't know about Captain America's origins?"

"I did read it. It didn't say anything about Captain America though."

"It says he was created by the SSR who were the precursor to SHIELD."

"What's that suppose to mean? I though it meant they created the idea of this superhero."

Phil was appalled at that vast misconception.

"No no, they actually created the hero. Well, to be more correct they created the man who became the well known hero; I think that Steve Rodgers was a hero way before he became a national icon. The SSR just helped by giving him the physical strength to become a greater hero."

Clint snorted before he could help himself. Coulson gave him a look that was mildly disproving.

"What's so funny?"

Clint ignored the question and ploughed on.

"How did they do it?"

"They created a secret formula that transformed a skinny 90 pound asthmatic weakling into Captain America. It was called the super-soldiers serum."

"The super-soldier serum! You're kidding me right?"

Phil blinked a couple of times at the reaction. Obviously it wasn't the first time Barton had heard that part of the story. Or maybe it was and that was the problem?

"Why do you say that? What do you know about the serum?"

"I know that pretty much every government and organisation, both good and bad, in the world have been trying to replicate it for years with little to no success. I haven't been living in a cave all my life Coulson, you learn a lot if you keep your eyes and ears open and observe. I didn't know they were all trying to make their own Captain America's though. I also don't understand how an injection made Captain America a hero."

"Simple answer, it didn't."

Clint blinked at that answer and in spite of himself lent forward in genuine interest.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I believe that he had the potential to be a hero from the start; he just lacked the physical attributes to make that possible. The serum gave him those attributes and with nothing to stop him he was able to become the hero he was born to be."

"So you think that heroes are born not made?"

Coulson shrugged as he took another bite of his steak.

"It depends; I think everyone has the potential to be a hero if they work hard enough at it. Heroes are just ordinary people who do extraordinary things, many of your everyday people could be classed as heroes yet they themselves probably aren't even aware of the fact. Captain America was a superhero but the man behind the mask was simply a hero."

"So you believe in heroes?"

Coulson nodded firmly as he finished eating.

"Yes Barton, I do believe in heroes. After almost a decade with SHIELD I still hold to the notion that people need heroes. Maybe it's an old fashioned idea but I think it's one that holds true for everyone today, whether they realise it or not. The world needs heroes, whether they are ordinary people like medics or soldiers doing what they can to keep people safe or someone like Steve Rodgers who never gave up on what he wanted to do and was willing to do whatever it took to realise that dream. Captain America believed in freedom and was willing to die to save his country. Do you believe in heroes Barton?"

Clint didn't. He may have once, a long time ago, but life had taught him that there was no such thing as heroes, they were just myths people thought up to encourage themselves to keep going and give kids something to look up to. The later had worked, as a kid he'd dreamed of one day becoming a hero like Captain America was in the comics and punching Hitler in the face just like Cap had; three weeks into military boot camp and that dream was all but gone as reality had hit him with the speed and force of an express train. Clint had learnt that dreams were just ideas and hopes that were unattainable for the ordinary person yet still nice to think about. Clint wasn't sure how to say any of this without offending Coulson so decided on the simplest option.

"No, I don't. I've seen too much and been through too much to believe in heroes anymore."

Coulson just sighed and looked sad but not surprised.

"You sound just like Fury, he doesn't believe in heroes either. He believes in giving second chances and helping people but heroes? No. He always said he's too old for that kind of thing. How can you ever be too old for Captain America?"

According to Barney Clint had been too old at eight to even read comics about Captain America. Clint had still read them regardless of Barney reckoning that only babies read them, he'd just done it in secret so he wouldn't be picked on. But it turns out Barney had been wrong. Very wrong.

Coulson was way older than Clint was and still enjoyed Captain America. He also believed in real heroes, not just the ones that existed in comic books but those that are alive today. Ordinary heroes, people you meet every day that work to make a difference in the world. Clint had never thought of heroes in that light, he'd thought real heroes were those who punched Hitler in a comic book. Superheroes to him had always been the stuff of legends.

Except Coulson, a grown man and long time SHIELD Agent, believed heroes were real. He believed in Captain America who was a superhero for pete's sake! Clint had never met anyone who liked Cap, most people he'd been around hadn't even heard of him.

Clint's eyes swept the diner for threats again without him even being fully aware that he was doing it. Old habits die hard, especially when being paranoid had saved your life more than once. Coulson was openly watching him and Clint felt like squirming under the Agents gaze. Instead once he'd satisfied himself that they were safe he frowned at Coulson.

"Why are you watching me? I don't like being watched."

Coulson didn't remove his gaze or pretend that he hadn't been watching. Clint appreciated that but wanted an honest answer as he seriously didn't like being watched. Coulson smiled a wry smile.

"Just admiring how observant you are and how you know everything that goes on around you without appearing to take special notice of anything. People watching is a valuable skill for both a sniper and a spy. You are remarkably good at it which will be a very useful skill once you're an agent."

Clint's eye's darkened.

"How come you noticed?"

Coulson took a sip from his glass before looking at Clint with a calm unflustered expression.

"I know a sniper's traits Barton and have worked with assassins and spies on an almost daily basis for going on ten years now. I know what to look for; I am a trained SHIELD Agent after all."

That was very true and Clint allowed the anger he'd felt to recede slightly. Of course a spy would pick up on those things, after all that's what they were trained to do. The ability to identify trouble before it happened may very well mean the difference between life and death. Clint knew that feeling all too well.

The waitress appeared just then to take away their empty plates and ask if they wanted dessert. Coulson thanked her for the meal and she smiled in a slightly flirtatious way before ducking off to get them dessert menus. As soon as she was gone Clint stared at Coulson.

"You really were serious about buying me dessert if I answered your question."

Coulson nodded as he brushed an almost invisible piece of lint off the sleeve of his suit.

"Yes Barton, I gave you my word and I intend to keep it. You answered my question, I said if you did I would buy dessert, you did and so I am buying dessert. I don't say anything I don't mean when I give my word Barton, I can lie so well that I almost believe what I say is the truth but when I give my honest word about something I honour it. Here the menus are now."

* * *

Phil ignored the incredulous look on Barton's face as he looked through the dessert menu. It was as plain as day that Barton had had promises made to him that were then broken without a second thought; Phil managed with difficulty to keep the white hot anger he felt at such dishonesty and cowardice to himself. Instead he pushed the second menu across the table before picking up his own and looking at the choices. After a moment Barton mimicked him and they sat in silence until a little while later when the girl came back.

"Have you decided what you want sirs?"

Phil looked at Barton.

"You go first."

Barton nodded and looked at the girl, Emily her name was he remembered.

"I'll have the blueberry ice cream thanks Emily."

Emily smiled at him as she wrote that down and then asked Phil what he wanted.

"A slice of lemon meringue pie please."

Emily bustled off to get their orders. Clint was started to slowly shred his napkin and actually started when Phil spoke.

"That napkin has done nothing to you so why are you shredding it?"

Barton shrugged as he tore another piece off and let it flutter down onto the tabletop.

"I'm bored. There's nothing to do here but wait."

Phil gave him a look that clearly said he wasn't buying that explanation for a moment.

"Snipers often have to wait for hours in far less comfort than what we have here. What's the difference?"

"If I've got a job to do I do it, I hate having nothing to do."

Well, that was fair enough. But...

"I see. That makes sense but would you please stop shredding paper anyway Barton? You're making a huge mess all over the table and you are almost twenty years old not five."

Barton shrugged indifferently but did as asked. Seeing him going back to analysing everything that was happening around him gave Phil an idea. If he could convince Barton to talk to him that might make him sit still for a moment and stop him rocking the table with each fidget.

"Barton, who taught you to use a bow and arrows? I've never seen archery that looks anything like what you do and I'm somewhat curious as to how you got that good."

At the question Barton's eyes immediately stopped scanning the place and came around to rest on Coulson. The look was intimidating to say the least, Phil realised that he had struck a sore spot but wasn't about to apologise as he really wanted to know. Besides, he'd told Barton what he thought of heroes and it really was only fair that he got an answer to a question that had been bugging him ever since the first time he'd seen Barton on the range with a bow. He knew the boy had been in the circus when he was younger but that could mean any number of things. He wanted more specifics than that if it were possible.

Barton scowled.

"Why should I tell you anything?"

"I asked nicely and earlier on I answered your question so it's really only fair that you answer mine now. Besides, I know that you were in a circus for most of your teenage years so where's the harm in telling me about learning archery?"

Before Barton could reply their desert order arrived. Immediately it was used as a delay tactic to avoid answering Phil's question as Barton started eating his ice cream with a speed that Phil had never seen anyone eat ice cream at before. Phil took a small bite of his pie and frowned at Barton.

"Slow down, at that speed you can't be tasting much of what you're eating. Besides I still want an answer to my question Barton, I am prepared to wait until you're finished."

That slowed Barton down but he was still eating the ice cream at an accelerated rate. Phil took a small bite of his dessert and thought hard. It hadn't escaped his notice over the last few weeks that Barton tended to eat very fast when there were other people around. He was also inclined to protect his food with his body. Given the evidence medical had found during Barton's initial intake exam that pointed towards childhood malnutrition and starvation having been a major factor in Barton's life Phil wasn't that surprised that Barton was protective of his food and ate fast.

In the past if he hadn't eaten fast it was likely that it would have been taken away from him, especially given he'd spent time in orphanages and the fact he wasn't the biggest person around. Phil had never been in foster care but knew many SHIELD agents who had been in the system at one time or another when they were children; they had told him a bit of what it was like. One thing that seemed fairly universal was that the bigger and stronger kids picked on those who were smaller and weaker. Given Barton's current size Phil suspected he'd probably fitted into the latter category.

Barton still had the build of an adolescent largely due to his age. The fact he had quite obviously been malnourished when he was younger meant his body had some catching up to do. Medical had also advised that he put on weight if possible as he was slightly under what was his ideal weight. Having been an eyewitness to the amount of food Barton could put away at one time Phil wondered how that was even possible but had taken medicals advice and made sure that Barton was eating regularly.

Barton had finished his ice cream when Phil was barely half way through his piece of pie. Seeing the kid was finished Phil gave him an unflustered look and repeated his earlier question.

"So Barton, where exactly did you learn to use a bow? My research uncovered the fact you and your brother were with a circus during most of your teenage years. Is that where it happened?"

Barton's head shot up and his eyes grew hard as he clenched his fists and hid them under the table.

"Where did you find that out? What do you know about my brother?"

Phil blinked.

"I know next to nothing about your brother, just that he exists. I found his birth certificate and old school records while I was doing research trying to find out who you were, I couldn't find anything else on him. You had slightly more documentation but it still took me several months of research and a lot of dead ends before I found anything concrete. In the end it was the fact you were in the army that enabled me to formally identify you."

Barton slumped in his chair and tried to make himself appear smaller. Phil had to admit he did a pretty damn good job at it; making it obvious that he'd had plenty of practice.

"I knew I should have used a fake name when I signed up."

Phil gave a short laugh at the mournful tone of voice.

"I'm glad that you didn't. Finding you was hard enough without adding false names to the mix. Plus, I don't think the army would have taken kindly to you using a false name if they'd ever found out."

"They never found out about my age. How did you find that out?"

Phil hadn't actually found that out, Fury had. Phil had later asked his old friend how he'd done it when nothing Phil had found during the course of his extensive research had even hinted at that but all Fury would tell him was that he had his sources.

"I didn't. I had no idea you weren't as old as your file said you were until Nick dropped that bombshell when we recruited you. I have no idea how he found that out and he won't tell me. Seriously though, were you really in a circus?"

Barton sighed.

"Yeh, I was. After we left the group home it was just about the only place that would take us in without calling child protection services on us. It's where I learnt to shoot and also learnt most of my ill gotten skills. I also learnt how to get around rigged games; it's easy if you know how."

Phil chuckled.

"I remember going to a circus with my class when I was a kid. We tried out a few of the games but no one won anything so we decided that the rides were a better deal. That was the only circus I've ever been to, I never had another opportunity when I was young and by the time I was older I had lost interest in those kinds of things."

Barton just stared at him.

"How can you lose interest in a circus?"

"It was a fun thing to do and see at the time, nothing more. Besides, I don't really like clowns. They are to jolly for my taste."

Clint though of the clowns that Carson's had had. They'd joined the show the year after Clint and Barney had. There had been two of them, brothers from Hungary who had come to America in search of a better life they said. Clint had never found out if they had any family. They'd both been hilarious in the ring and the crowd had loved them, but when they weren't performing they were just like anyone else, no makeup or fake noses to be seen. They'd do their duties and keep to themselves the rest of the time; even though they both knew English they rarely spoke it except in the ring.

They'd been very jolly when performing but as dull as ditchwater when they weren't in the ring. Clint supposed actually having been a part of the circus world and not just a visitor gave him a unique perspective on things.

Coulson finished his pie and looked across as Clint.

"You never lost interest in the circus? Then why did you leave them and join the army?"

"Pay was better and it gave me more options than the circus did."

The answer was delivered with a suddenness that made Phil blink, Barton had never answered a question that fast before. He suspected there was more to the story than what Barton had said, the answer was delivered to quickly and smoothly, like it had been well practiced. Still, if Barton didn't want to tell him that was his business. Phil had just asked out of curiosity, it wasn't something that was really need to know but the fact that The Amazing Hawkeye had seemed to be very popular around the time he'd disappeared had him curious about why Barton had left. He also wondered what had happened to his older brother but judging from the archer's earlier reaction it was a very sore topic that Phil would probably be wise not to mention again until Barton was ready to tell him the story. The kid had good reasons not to trust anybody but Phil hoped to one day earn enough of his trust that Barton would tell him more about his past. But realistically he knew it wasn't going to happen for a while, if it ever did.

"You thought army pay was better? I hate to think what they were paying you in the circus if that was the case, the army pays peanuts."

Barton just shrugged as he finished his drink.

"They also fed you and housed you in the army. Overall it wasn't a bad deal."

"Surely they did that in the circus?"

Barton just shrugged and refused to meet Phil's eyes.

"I wanted a change."

The waitress Emily came up to their table again to take their dessert plates away and ask if they would like anything else to eat. Phil said no and asked for the bill which she promised to bring in just a minute. Once she left Phil turned back to Barton who was scanning the diner for threats _again_ ; somehow that failed to surprise Phil in the slightest.

"You almost ready to go back to the base Barton? Unless there's something you want to do first."

Clint nodded immediately.

"Ready to go whenever you are. There's nothing to do here."

Phil just shook his head.

"For a trained sniper you are very impatient."

"I told you; if I've got a job to do I do it. I like having something to do. Just waiting is bor-ring."

Emily came back with the bill just then and smiled at Phil as he paid it, adding a generous tip in the process. The agent and assassin than left the diner and headed back to the SHIELD compound. Phil escorted Clint to his room on base and told him to stay there before heading to his own private suite. There were advantages, apart from the paperwork, to been a senior Agent and a good friend of Director Fury's.

* * *

 **End of chapter 7.**

* * *

 **This is a slow chapter but something that I felt desperately needed to happen. Up until now we haven't seen a lot of Phil and Clint interacting with each other in an environment that isn't SHIELD and I don't know about you but I got the feeling that they both needed to talk. Plus, it was great fun to write.**

 **Next chapter;**

 _ **Chapter 8: The storm hits**_

 **Yes, we get into the real drama of this story next time!**

 **See you then!**


	8. The storm hits

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **Yay, I managed to meet my deadline to post chapter 8 this weekend! A extra huge shout out goes to jaguarspot for beta-ing the edits to this chapter in record time and allowing this to happen. I don't care that I am repeating myself to say that this story would not be what it is without her valuable input.**

 **As always, a big thank you to those who reviewed as well!**

 **Reviewers of chapter 7; CrazedFangirl13, Guest and Armand.**

 **And so we get to the real fun of this story. This chapter and the next were great fun to write but also the most annoying, largely because of Nick Fury. Unless you want to end up bald I would suggest _never_ trying to make him three-dimensional in a story. Trust me on this one, the end result is great but getting there...Grrrrrrr. Anyway, I did make it in the end.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light. _Aristotle Onassis_

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The storm hits**

Clint was huddled into his black SHIELD issued jacket as he watched the clouds scuttle overhead and listened as the wind whistled through the trees, making them creak and groan. The SHIELD base was surrounded by woodland on all sides, you had to drive through trees to get there, and to the outsider it looked like a military training compound of some sort, which in a former life it probably had been. Either that or when they'd built it they'd wanted it to look like a military base. Hiding in plain sight, if it looked enough like a military compound no one would question whether it was or not and would know to stay away. Appearances can be very deceiving and to the untrained eye it didn't look anything like what it was; the base for a top secret government organisation.

Clint was thinking about what Coulson had told him over dinner the evening before. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that the older Agent believed in heroes and superheroes and freely admitted it. He idolised Captain America, a character from a comic book that had once upon a time been a real person. Clint knew it took a lot of faith to believe in superheroes as strongly as Coulson apparently did and knew he would never have that sort of faith. But he thought maybe he could learn to believe in heroes again. Not superheroes, just heroes. That might be possible to do.

The creak of the roof access door opening made Clint turn around and look at who his visitor was. He didn't draw his knife, just laid his hand on it ready to use if he had to as if it was Fury giving another unexpected night time visit he didn't want a repeat performance of last time. That had almost given him a heart attack; despite the life he led Clint was pretty sure that trying to kill your boss after said boss had taken a chance on recruiting you wasn't the right thing to do. Especially not when you had had the job for barely three weeks; Clint wanted to stay at SHIELD and that definitely wasn't the right way to go about it. He was extremely thankful, that Fury had understood that he hadn't meant it and hadn't been offended or worried. Clint was starting to respect the unflappable attitude of SHIELD's Director.

This time however it wasn't Fury. Instead the figure who'd come through the door was Coulson.

"Barton, are you up here?"

Clint sighed, there went his quiet time.

"Yeh. I'm here."

Coulson obviously saw him in spite of the dim light and came over. He sat down on the roof a couple of yards away and looked at Clint, his facial expression largely hidden in shadows.

Fury said "I might find you up here. How he knew that he wouldn't tell me. I wanted to find you because I have news that is going to affect you."

Clint looked at Coulson with a raised eyebrow and didn't say anything; instead he just waited for Coulson to continue.

"That evil meatloaf has finally poisoned people. Several of our agents are in medical right now with a very bad case of food poisoning."

"How's that going to affect me?"

Coulson sighed.

"It will affect you because one of those who are down sick is another level 7 Agent, who was supposed to be shipping out on an op at first light. Naturally he can't do it now, so I have been appointed to take his place as a level 7 Agent am required for this particular op. I know that your exams are close but you've practically finished all the course work, all you can do now is revise everything and you really don't need me around for that. This op shouldn't last more than a week; I should be home by Thursday or Friday, Saturday at the latest."

Clint frowned.

"So you're leaving here for a week?"

"That's about it. There isn't another Agent available with the necessary clearance and knowledge for this op, so Fury had no other choice but to rope me in despite telling me before that I was off duty until further notice. This is apparently the further notice. I told him I wanted to at least tell you before I take off and when you weren't in your room I went looking. Fury told me to try the roof and here you are. I don't know how he knew to check here and he wouldn't tell me. Have you told him?"

Clint knew the conversation with Fury on the roof was top secret and Fury didn't want anyone to know anything about it. Fortunately, Clint had an answer to Coulson's question that wouldn't give anything away and was probably the truth.

"He must have checked the security footage. I can't avoid that camera."

Coulson sighed again.

"Must be how he did it. He sees all and knows all that happens around here despite having only one eye. I seriously don't know how he manages it, I have trouble just keeping up-to-date with paperwork and I have two eyes."

Clint just shrugged as he went back to staring out into the night.

"He is the master spy."

Coulson just nodded.

"Yes, he is. He has his ways of knowing things. I sometimes feel that he knows about things before they happen."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Coulson spoke again.

"So are you alright with me leaving? I know I said that I would drive you to the exam centre as you still aren't allowed to drive but, I will arrange for someone else to do it next week, so don't worry about that. Unfortunately, this op comes first. That's the way the life of a SHIELD Agent is, work before play. Sometimes you can get both at once but that doesn't happen very often."

Clint just shrugged and didn't bother saying anything to that; instead he watched the clouds scuttle across in front of the moon making the world around him go in and out of shadows; somewhere close by an owl cried out. Clint had always loved the moon; it had seemed to be such a wondrous thing to a little boy and living under canvas like Clint had in the circus meant the moon had been a constant companion when it wasn't raining or overcast. Even his stint in Afghanistan where he may have to stay up for nights on end with only a harsh light for comfort hadn't dampened his love of the moon.

Coulson sighed as he got up with a groan that someone his age really shouldn't be making. Clint managed to tear his eyes away from the moon and looked over at him.

"You're off now?"

Phil nodded, realising after the fact that he likely couldn't be seen in the darkness. Then he remembered the eye doctor saying that Clint could likely see in the dark. His thoughts were confirmed a second later.

"Okay then, see you next week."

Clint went back to staring out into the night and Coulson left to get ready for the mission. Clint was actually sorry that Coulson wouldn't be around during the exam period, he'd grown too really like the Agent over the last month that he'd spent studying with him. Coulson had never gotten mad when Clint didn't know something; instead he'd patiently walked him through it and explained it in such a way that it made sense. Clint knew his brain was wired slightly differently to most peoples, he'd often been made fun of because of that, but Coulson had never belittled him or made him feel stupid. Clint knew if he passed the exams next week it would be due to Coulson's time and endless patience in helping him.

* * *

On Sunday afternoon Fury informed Clint that Wilkinson would drive him to the exam centre which was located about half-an-hour's drive away. Apparently Coulson had asked Wilkinson to do it before he'd left on the mission and the range master had readily agreed. Clint was glad that it was at least going to be someone he knew as he was nervous enough about the exams without adding the stress of being around someone he didn't know.

These exams meant more to Clint than he cared to admit. For most of his life he'd thought himself stupid, a belief that was fostered largely from his father's drunken abuse and endless cursing about what 'a useless good for nothing little shit he was' which had surrounded him through his early childhood. Being constantly surrounded by that kind of attitude you start to believe it is the truth and by the time Clint had been old enough to go to school he'd already believed that he was stupid and retardant and so hadn't worked very hard, seeing no reason to seeing he was too stupid to ever do much with his life.

After he was orphaned he'd changed schools constantly, a couple of times a year at least which hadn't exactly been conductive to learning for a kid who was already far behind what most other kids his age were doing. Barney had taught him the basics of reading and how to write his name but it hadn't been until the circus that it had actually made sense.

Clint hadn't had any formal education since he was about eleven. It had been the same year he and Barney had run away to join the circus and he'd attended school for perhaps two weeks in total for the whole year. In the circus world reading and writing didn't mean much, knowing how to look after animals, trick people out of their money and perform was what had mattered to the group of misfits that called themselves Carson's Carnival of Travelling Wonders. Clint had loved it all and run wild, at least until Elena the acrobat had decided he should at least learn basic reading skills and had forcibly sat him down with her daughter to teach him.

She hadn't been a bad teacher, despite coming from somewhere in Europe English was her native language and she had understood it much better than Clint ever had. Clint had enjoyed those lessons, sitting cross legged on the grass outside their caravan (or in the caravan if it was raining) while Elena had taught him to read and write out of a book that had pictures in it that probably really weren't suitable for children to see; they all had regardless as no one was really fussed about those sort of things in a circus.

Just because Elena had taught him to read didn't mean he'd been very good at other subjects though, as a whole Clint found them to be rather boring. Elena had tried to teach him and Molly but she didn't know enough herself and the books she had managed to get hold off didn't explain things very well.

It wasn't until the army that Clint had managed to learn something other than basic math skills with the aid of some books he'd managed to get hold off and due to his world travels during his time as a mercenary had a fairly good grasp of geography and politics. At least he had known enough to get by and survive which were the only things he was concerned about.

Then Fury and Coulson had come along and SHIELD had happened. Clint now wanted to do more than get by, he had been given another chance to live and do some good in the world and he wasn't about to pass that kind of opportunity up. Second chances didn't come around very often and he wasn't going to screw this one up if he could help it, if he did he might never get another one.

* * *

Clint walked out of the testing centre on Wednesday afternoon feeling like his brain was made of cotton wool. It had been a challenging few days but he was fairly happy with how the tests had gone, at least he'd been able to answer all the questions which was a good start. Time would tell just how well he'd gone and Clint wasn't one to dwell on what was in the past that he had no control over; he'd knew the worst in a few days.

Wilkinson was waiting in a small blue sedan that didn't scream 'feds' to the skies like SHIELD's black SUV's did. It was his personal vehicle, he liked to be inconspicuous when he wasn't on official SHIELD business and this car was perfect for that purpose. Wilkinson was reading a book which he put down as soon as he saw Clint.

"All done?"

Clint just nodded. Wilkinson smiled.

"Congratulations Barton, you have officially finished school. I think this calls for a celebration, don't you?"

Clint was immediately interested.

"What kind of a celebration?"

Wilkinson shrugged.

"I don't know, we can do anything you like. I have the rest of today off so we don't need to be back at base anything soon. You name it and so long as it's within reason I don't see why we can't do it."

Clint thought for a moment before he smirked and looked at Wilkinson.

"Are there any paint ball centres around here?"

Wilkinson stared at him for a moment before he threw back his head and laughed hard. Once he got himself under control he turned back to Clint who was still smirking.

"Trust you to pick something where your aim comes into play. I guess I should get ready to lose badly. We should be at a centre in about twenty minutes or so if that's what you really want to do. I will warn you that the centre isn't all that glamorous but has a fairly decent set-up. It might not be much of a challenge for someone with your skill set though. You still sure you want to do it?"

Clint nodded decidedly.

"I do."

Wilkinson grinned.

"Okay then, one paintball centre coming up!"

* * *

Clint and Wilkinson arrived back at base that evening sporting a few new bruises that were promising to be painful later on but both were in high spirits regardless. As Wilkinson had predicted Clint's aim had given him an unfair advantage, even with extra ammo as a handicap Wilkinson hadn't stood a chance. He had more bruises than the archer did but had managed to get a few good hits in that had to be painful and so felt somewhat vindicated.

Upon entering the base Clint knew immediately that something was wrong and the good mood the paintball session had left him in evaporated. The tension and fear in the air was almost thick enough to smother someone. Clint turned to Wilkinson with a worried look as the enthusiasm and energy from the day faded.

"What's happened?"

Wilkinson just shook his head, looking equally bewildered.

"I have no idea but I think that we are about to find out."

Clint frowned and followed Wilkinson's gaze to see Fury striding towards them looking very grim.

"You're both back."

Wilkinson nodded.

"Yes, what's happened?"

Fury looked at them both but his focus was on Clint as he said the next words.

"We just got word that Agent Coulson has been severely injured in a car accident and is in a critical condition. They managed to stabilise him enough to fly him back here, the jet is en route as we speak and the medics are working to keep him stable until they can get him into surgery."

Fury looked Clint in the eye and didn't sugar coat his next words.

"They don't know if he's going to make it through though, it's pretty bad apparently."

Not much rattled Clint but that piece of news succeeded in making him go as white as a sheet. It's possible he would have fallen over if Wilkinson hadn't grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Easy Barton, just concentrate on breathing. You're okay."

Clint was vaguely aware that Fury and Wilkinson were talking in low voices but the words didn't register. All he could see was his parents lying in the front seat of their car covered in blood with staring sightless eyes; they were dead.

It was a car accident that had taken his parents from him when he was six years old, even though they had not been the best parents they were the only ones Clint had ever had. Now a car accident might rob him of Coulson. The man who'd seen something in him that no one else ever had and had offered him a chance, the man who'd convinced his boss Clint was worth taking a chance on, the man who'd never made him feel stupid or yelled at him just because he didn't know the things that most people did.

Coulson had probably done more for Clint in the last month than anyone else had in his whole life. Now that man, that brave man who still believed in heroes and that everyone deserved a chance to do some good in life, may not make it through. Clint couldn't bring himself to think of the word to describe that, it felt very _very_ wrong thinking of Coulson and that word in the same sentence.

Clint had frozen in place, the memories of the original accident occupying all his focus. He was vaguely aware of someone gently taking his arm and guiding him somewhere but he didn't know who it was or where they were going. He didn't really come to until he was sitting in a surprisingly comfortable chair and being offered a sealed plastic bottle of water.

Clint looked up to see Fury was the one offering it. After some hesitation Clint took it and gave it a brief inspection to make sure the seal was untouched by habit before he opened it and took a sip. After half the bottle was gone he began to feel slightly better. He was still in shock, both at the strength of his reaction to the news and the news itself. He'd thought that he'd dealt with the trauma of his parent's death years ago, apparently he wasn't as over it as he had thought.

Fury moved away to sit down on his chair. Clint realised he was in Fury's office and a quick look around showed that they were the only people there. Fury was looking intently at Clint but his gaze wasn't the least bit threatening, if anything it showed concern which surprised Clint.

"Feeling better now? I know; it's a shock every time. It never gets easier, even for me."

Clint just nodded as he pulled himself together enough to speak. When he was sure that he wouldn't have another breakdown he answered verbally.

"Yes, it is."

"Do you need anything? I can send someone to get you some food if you would like."

Clint just shook his head. If he ate anything at the moment he knew he'd just throw up. What he wanted was to go and hide himself away in his nest in the vents and deal with his emotions by himself in private. He was embarrassed that he'd broken down in front of other agents and who know who had seen him while they were heading to Fury's office. Clint's survival had always depended on not showing weakness in any form to anyone, even as a kid that had stood true. Emotions were a powerful weapon; Clint had learnt that before his parent's deaths.

Fury accepted his answer without question.

"You should probably go and get some rest then, the jet isn't in yet and when it does arrive medical won't want anyone in the way. Coulson is a tough son of a bitch Barton; he's been at deaths door before and pulled through when everyone thought he was done. Medical will do all they can to save him so don't worry about that; SHIELD's medical resources go beyond what is available to most people. Do you think you can get to your room by yourself?"

Clint immediately nodded; the last thing he wanted was to show anymore weakness than he had already.

"I'll be fine."

"Okay."

Fury stood and opened the door so Clint could leave his office. As soon as the door closed behind him Clint bolted. He reached the nearest vent in record time and climbed into it, replacing the cover before crawling towards his 'nest'.

Once he was there he cuddled into the blankets and there, in the safety and solitary of the air vents, he finally allowed himself to break down like he hadn't done for a long time. It took a while but he eventually calmed down and felt slightly better and it wasn't long after that before he was asleep.

* * *

Fury looked through the viewing window into the med bay and watched the doctors and nurses prepping Coulson for surgery. The bomb had gone off when the car was almost right over the top of it; Coulson had been thrown clear of the wreckage but hadn't escaped the fire and debris the explosion had generated. He'd lost a lot of blood and some of his injuries were very grave, he also had bits of concrete and who knows what else in him that had to be removed and they were worried that he could be bleeding internally. The doctor reported all this to Fury as Phil was rushed into surgery; Fury just nodded his thanks and continued to stare through the window until long after his good friend had disappeared into the operating theatre.

Everyone seemed to think that this was just an unfortunate accident, especially because the bomb was not common knowledge yet. Fury would like to keep it that way but he knew that would be near impossible with the number of people that already knew the truth. However, he could keep the accident idea circulating, not that Fury was buying that explanation for one minute. He hadn't spent almost two decades spying for the CIA during the Cold War for nothing. Spies don't trust anyone and are suspicious of everything and everyone, Fury had learnt a long time ago never to take anything at face value but to dig deeper even if it seemed cut and dried. The fact that Coulson was even on that mission in the first place was due to an unfortunate incident of food poisoning; it could all be a coincidence but something didn't sit quite right with the Director about the whole situation. It was just too convenient.

At the forefront of his mind was the niggling suspicion he had that there was a traitor within the organisation. If he hadn't been suspicious before he definitely was now, over the last month alone there had been one blown op on what should have been a milk run due to Hydra knowing where they were going to be, and a very convenient case of food poisoning that had resulted in Coulson being sent on a mission that he really shouldn't have had to go on. Then on said mission his car happened to hit a bomb that according to all their Intel shouldn't have been there. One solitary bomb planted on the one road out of the many available that they happened to take. Fury had suspected that five missions over the last 11 or so months had been compromised due to leaked Intel, now there had been three suspicious incidents in one month. That couldn't be a coincidence.

Fury wondered what had caused the traitor to cause three possible accidents in one month; no one but Fury had seemed to notice anything odd about the other events as they had happened slowly over a long period of time. It seemed that someone was upping their timetable, either that or simply selling more secrets to make more money. If the latter was the case Fury knew that sooner or later they would slip up, the prospect of making more money meant they would take bigger risks and eventually expose themselves.

Or, in the worst case scenario, there was actually a mole in the organisation.

If that was the case then it added a whole other set of complications and possibilities. Fury didn't know when the mole would strike or what he or she would do next as he did not know what they wanted; it could potentially compromise the whole organisation depending on what clearance level they were. If it was just someone selling secrets to make money it was unlikely they had ulterior motives that could threaten the whole organisation, if there was a mole than everyone was potentially in danger, and a potential suspect.

As these things went through Fury's head he thought of Barton. He'd asked the kid for help in finding the traitor as Barton had no former ties to the organisation that they could find and had been brought in by Coulson who Fury trusted implicitly. He hadn't wanted to tell his good friend of his suspicions before he was sure he was right as it could make Phil a target if he started poking his nose in where it wasn't wanted. Which he would definitely do as soon as he knew about it. Curiously killed the cat they say, Fury was afraid it could kill Coulson. And unlike cats Fury did not know how many lives Phil had left. Barton, in spite of his amazing skill set, was expendable. Phil wasn't. Fury knew that this kind of thinking made him a cold-hearted bastard but that sort of thinking was also how he'd survived all those years spent living and spying on the borders of the Iron Curtain.

However, this accident had now changed everything.

After this was over Fury planned on telling Phil about the traitor, after all Phil had done for Fury and SHIELD Nick owed his best friend that much. That was providing Phil made it through this; Fury, despite his earlier words to Barton, had grave doubts that his friend would survive. Preliminary reports showed that the damage to his body was pretty extreme. Still, Phil had clawed his way back from death's door once before and proved all the doctors wrong, if it was possible Nick knew he would do it again. If only to piss off the doctors by proving they were wrong about him.

Besides, Phil was too much of a survivor and too damn stubborn to give up his life without having a damn good reason to do so.

* * *

Clint slunk along the virtually empty hallways as he headed towards the medical wing. He was once again in control of his emotions and ready to handle everything, it had just been the shock that had caused him to flash back to all the painful memories from his past that he would rather forget about.

He didn't know if Coulson was out of surgery yet and was really hoping that he wouldn't run into anyone there. He just wanted to see Coulson and maybe touch him, even if he was unconscious Clint had heard that people in comas could often hear and understand what happened around them, they just couldn't respond. Coulson had been very good to Clint over the last month and Clint wasn't about to leave him now. This man had literally saved his life and Clint had always been loyal to a fault, even when the other person hadn't returned that loyalty. Coulson might not have earned his trust yet but he had Clint's loyalty. He'd had that the moment he'd taken him out of the prison.

As Clint slipped into the emergency waiting room he was shocked to find Fury snoozing in one of the hard plastic chairs. He didn't seem to stir even with Clint there and a quick glance through the viewing window showed Clint that the room beyond was empty.

"He's not out of surgery yet. There were mega complications."

Clint swung around to face a very wide awake Fury.

"I thought you were asleep."

Fury nodded; to others it wouldn't have been noticeable but to Clint's eyes the Director looked a bit pale.

"It's a useful skill, I knew as soon as you stepped into the room. I'm a spy Barton, much like a sniper does when he's on watch duty spies also have to be aware of their surroundings at all times, even when they are asleep. If it had been a serious threat coming through that door they'd be dead right now."

Clint glanced through the viewing window again to the empty room beyond; Fury followed his gaze.

"They are doing all they can Barton, but as I said before it is not good. If he makes it through the surgery he'll have a fifty-fifty chance of recovery. If you believe in a higher entity Barton I would suggest that you start praying now."

Clint didn't say anything and his eyes didn't leave the window. There was silence for what seemed like an age before Fury spoke.

"Barton, maybe you should go and get some food. There will be someone on duty in the mess, it's open twenty-four seven due to the odd hours agents tend to work. You may feel better after eating something as I'm fairly certain that you missed dinner."

Clint managed to tear his gaze away from the empty room and nodded at Fury. Keeping busy was probably a good idea.

"Okay, do you want anything?"

Fury shook his head.

"No, I'm fine. Just make sure that you don't eat the contaminated meat loaf."

If it had been intended as a joke it fell flat, Clint just nodded and left. He came back some time later after having consumed a couple of chicken sandwiches, Clint had to admit he felt much better after having had something to eat. Just as he entered the room a door on the other side opened and a doctor exited holding a clipboard. Fury moved so fast that in the time it took Clint to blink he was already halfway across the room. It didn't take Clint long to follow.

"How is he?"

The doctor looked harassed and extremely tired as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Not good I'm afraid; we almost lost him three times on the operating table but somehow managed to revive him every time. He is currently in recovery but all I will say is he's not looking good. The next thirty-six hours or so will be critical; if he's still hanging in there by the end of it he'll have a seventy percent chance of survival. At the moment his chances are closer to forty."

Clint paled at the doctor's words but managed to keep it all together this time. Fury just nodded as he glanced briefly at the archer before turning back to the doctor.

"I see. Thank you Dr. Scott, keep us informed won't you?"

The doctor nodded.

"Yes Director, I'll let you know when he's moved into the intensive care ward and if there's any change in his condition before that I'll also let you know."

The doctor left and Fury frowned at Clint.

"You don't look so great. Come on let's sit down."

Clint let Fury guide him to one of the hard plastic chairs. He just sat there, staring blankly in front of him. He wasn't paying Fury much attention and actually jumped when the older man spoke.

"How are you holding up?"

Clint wasn't holding up at all and he got the feeling Fury knew that better than he did so did not bother replying. Instead he huddled in on himself as he hunched over in the plastic waiting room chair. Fury mentally sighed as he got out of his own chair and knelt on the floor so he was at Clint's eye level, or he would have been if the kid would actually look at him.

"Barton, look at me."

It took a while but Fury was a patient man when he wanted to be. The young man's extraordinary blue eyes finally came up to meet Fury's brown one. He had the mask he always wore in place but it wasn't quite holding up and Fury saw things in Barton's eyes that he'd never seen there before and that he probably wasn't supposed to see. It made Nick's heart clench but there was nothing he could do about it right now that wouldn't seem at odds with his character. Fury had to be the tough cold-hearted bastard of the organisation; he had to make the hard calls and not regret his decisions. Nick, on the other hand, was a caring soft-hearted fool.

Nick cared a lot about all of his agents, probably too much. Fury might knowingly send them into danger without blinking an eye but if they were killed in action or died from injuries afterwards it was Nick who couldn't sleep at night. It weighed heavily on his soul but that was the cost of this kind of work. As he'd told Barton, he wasn't the only one to have done something in the past that he regretted. Nick Fury had many regrets in his life. And they kept building up with every passing day as there was nothing he could do to stop them. Someone had to make the tough calls, and as the Director of SHIELD that responsibility fell squarely on Fury's shoulders.

Fury often felt that the weight of the whole world rested on his shoulders. The weight of the world's security certainly did. A lesser man would not have been able to bear it, which was the reason that Nick had accepted the job of Director when he was offered it. Someone had to make the tough calls to protect the innocent and Fury knew he was the only one qualified to do that, even if he didn't know if he always made the right decisions someone had to do it. The Security Council were supposed to be there to advise him and help him with difficult matters but were virtually useless in that regard. They were too far removed from the harsh reality that comprised Fury's life and world.

They were politicians, not spies. Spies make split second decisions and can't afford regrets if something goes wrong, they have to push on and finish the job at whatever cost. Spies don't waste words if they don't have to. Spies adapt and compromise if they need to. Spies do not waste precious time and resources arguing over protocol, they write their own. Fury could go on indefinitely with these thoughts but right now he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Fury held the eye contact Barton had established as he rephrased his earlier question.

"Can I do anything to help?"

Clint dropped his eyes and avoided looking directly at Fury as he finally answered.

"No."

Fury just nodded.

"Okay. Well, you heard what the doctor said. Coulson survived surgery but only time will tell what the long term outcome is. Right now Barton I think that you need to go and get some rest, you look exhausted."

Barton vehemently shook his head.

"No, I'm not going anywhere until I can see Coulson."

"You may be here a while in that case."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving until I can see him."

Fury mentally sighed as he stood up.

"Once he is out of recovery they'll move him to a private ward where people will be able to see him so there really isn't any point in staying as he won't come back here."

Barton was back to glaring.

"I don't care. I'm not leaving until I can see him. Unless you have other ideas? _SIR_."

Fury had no idea what the kid was acting this way but he did realise that Barton wasn't going to move of his own volition anytime soon.

"Well then, you'll be here by yourself as I am going to go now. In spite of all that has happened I still have a worldwide organisation to run."

Barton didn't give any indication he'd heard what Fury had said and with another mental sigh Fury got up to leave. Just as he reached the door however he had a rather alarming thought and swiftly turned back to face the archer, who was still sitting eerily still in the hard plastic chair.

"You do know that your place here at SHIELD isn't reliant on Coulson, don't you Barton? Whatever may happen you aren't going to be kicked out without a very good reason and even then that's unlikely to happen. No matter what happens in this instance Barton, you are here to stay. You do know that right?"

The kid looked up so fast that Fury was half surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. Nick's soft heart clenched again at the look of barely concealed hope that was evident on Barton's face.

"You did know that right Barton? You didn't seriously think that we would kick you out for something like this?"

The look on the kids face said that was exactly what he'd thought but he stayed stubbornly silent. Fury sat down again and rubbed his forehead as he deliberated what to say.

"Barton, I honestly don't know where you got that idea from but I can tell you right now that it is complete fiction. You would have to do something really bad to be thrown out of SHIELD. In fact I can't recall one instance where we have thrown someone out, at least not since I've been with SHIELD, and I highly doubt that you'll be the first. What gave you that idea?"

* * *

Clint listened to all that Fury said with badly concealed hope. He knew that Coulson was responsible for him and had been worried that if he couldn't continue to do that job then Clint would be cut loose or thrown in prison again, this time for good. In spite of what Fury and Coulson had both told him Clint was sticking to what he knew, namely the fact that every time something good happened to him it always came with a catch. He couldn't remember one instance where opportunities came that didn't have strings attached to them.

Clint looked up at Fury who was still looking at him, clearly waiting for an answer to his question.

"Nothing gave me that idea. I just know that Coulson is responsible for me and if he isn't around I don't know what would happen."

"Well, I can tell you right now that being kicked out of SHIELD isn't in the equation Barton. Regardless of what happens here you aren't going anywhere as long as you keep doing your job and stay loyal."

The 'to me, I couldn't care a less about whether you are loyal to SHIELD or not' part was left unsaid but they both knew what Fury really meant.

Clint fastened his gaze on Fury, he was a bit shocked.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

Fury didn't bat an eyelid.

"Yes Barton, I do. So, do we have a deal? You will at least try to believe that you aren't going to be suddenly kicked out as long as you continue to do your job and remain loyal?"

Clint had doubted Fury's sincerity more than once over the last month but the older man was still saying the same thing he'd said to Clint right back on day one. Do your best by me and I'll do my best by you, I don't expect anything extra in return, just that you do your best and remain loyal to me. In return you have a permanent position here at SHIELD.

(Calling it a home might be pushing things a bit much. Clint hadn't had a home in years and he wasn't sure that SHIELD would ever be a home. Plus, the notion of home conquered up a whole slew of unpleasant memories that Clint would rather forget about.)

After a bit of deliberating Clint finally nodded slightly and before he lost his nerve extended his right hand to Fury, who, after a momentary pause (that was practically unnoticeable) shook it.

"Okay, we have a deal. Sir."

* * *

It was well after noon the following day before Wilkinson found himself heading towards medical to see how Coulson was going. It was the first chance he'd had to visit as in spite of who was injured and their importance SHIELD was still a huge organisation with many different parts. SHIELD agents were injured and died all the time in the line of duty; in spite of that the show must go on.

Wilkinson knew Coulson's condition was still touch and go and he could die at any time but he was currently hanging in there like the stubborn son of a bitch that he was. Despite not having been a part of SHIELD for as long as Wilkinson had been Coulson had given his life and soul to SHIELD and Nick Fury and had remained faithful and hardworking for almost a decade now.

Wilkinson had seen a lot during his career with SHIELD. Like Coulson he was former military but unlike Coulson he had joined SHIELD over thirty years ago. He'd spent roughly ten of those as a field agent before he'd lost the lower half of his left leg due to a mission that went bad, not many people knew that he wore a prosthetic as he had a private room with an on suite on base and always wore long pants when he was around other people. It didn't bother him anymore, he'd lived almost half his life with the thing on after all, but it made field work difficult.

SHIELD had offered him a desk job or a teaching role, he'd always loved weapons and so had decided to go for that. The original range master was getting on in years at that stage and had been more than happy to train Wilkinson to take his place. Within eighteen months Wilkinson had been in sole charge of the range and had never been happier.

He'd added a lot to it over the last two decades and seen the addition of many new weapons to the collection he looked after like a dragon would its treasure. Weapons were both beautiful and deadly, but only as long as they were properly looked after. While Wilkinson was the boss they would be looked after, he was infamous for chewing out anyone who did anything stupid with one of his beloved weapons. He'd actually made trained assassins cower with the force of his anger; there was more than one person in SHIELD who would back up that claim.

Wilkinson arrived at the private room in the critical care unit where they were keeping Coulson. He glanced through the viewing window to see how things were going before he marched in but what he saw made him stop and instead just look. He'd known the archer thought a lot of the Agent but he had not expected this.

Barton was curled up in a chair next to the bed with his eyes closed. Wilkinson couldn't tell if he was sleeping or if he was just resting but regardless which one it was he didn't look like he planned on moving out any time soon. Wilkinson decided not to go into the room like he'd originally planned to do and disturb the kid; instead he just looked through the window at Coulson lying there, looking unnaturally still.

He was attached to so many machines and monitors that Wilkinson wondered how they managed to not all cause each other to short out. He couldn't see much of Coulson's body due to the bandages and blankets that pretty much covered every square inch of it but his face was ghostly pale and his eyes were closed; the bruising surrounding his left eye was enough to make Wilkinson wince in sympathy just looking at it and given how ashen the agent's skin was the black eye really stood out. Wilkinson seriously hoped that there weren't any broken blood vessels to contend with, he wasn't a doctor but he was pretty sure that the skin around a person's eyes should _not_ be that colour under any circumstances.

Barton didn't look so bad now. Wilkinson had been really worried last night when the archer had apparently had some sort of panic attack when he'd heard the news about Coulson; Wilkinson had helped Fury take the kid back to his office where it was private and had gotten him a bottle of water before leaving at Fury's request. Though Fury was now the big boss of the whole organisation Wilkinson had been here long enough that he still remembered when Alexander Pierce had first recruited him.

The first time Wilkinson had actually laid eyes on Fury was when someone who thought that he shouldn't be here because he was also still working part time with the CIA had been arguing with him. Even back then Fury had been handling the situation with the skill level of a diplomat but the other idiot hadn't listened and had ended up trying to punch him for some reason. Wilkinson still wasn't quite sure what had happened next but the other man had ended up flat on his back on the ground and Fury hadn't appeared to have moved a muscle to achieve that. It was at that moment as Fury looked down at the idiot with a smug yet somehow bored expression that Wilkinson had told himself that if anyone would ever make the Director of SHIELD in the future it would be Nick Fury. He had all the skills that were needed along with the ability to handle anything life threw at him and then some.

Now, almost two decades after Wilkinson had had that thought, Fury was the Director of SHIELD. Wilkinson hadn't been surprised when it had happened, what he was surprised about was that it had taken so long to happen. The man was a natural leader and the best spy and soldier that Wilkinson had ever had the honour of working with or for. Given all his other qualities he was quite literally born to be the head of SHIELD, Wilkinson couldn't think of anyone that was better suited to the task.

Wilkinson took another look at Barton, who was till sleeping, before he slipped away from the window and headed back to his rooms. He knew Coulson had been helping the kid study for the GED exams and that Phil had brought him into SHIELD from whatever job he'd had before, given Barton's unusual skills and the way he acted it was probably something Wilkinson was better off not knowing about. In spite of this he hadn't realised just how close those two apparently were already.

Wilkinson wondered if they realised it themselves, SHIELD agents were notorious for being emotionally constipated when it came to things like that. Wilkinson had seen it happen time and time again. Many people made a mistake in thinking that only romantic relationships were difficult as an agent, Wilkinson knew that any relationship, whether romantic or not, had its own set of problems and complications. There was a really good reason why not many SHIELD agents were married and even more were divorced, and an even better reason why marriages to civilians weren't recommended or endorsed within SHIELD.

Wilkinson started to feel really old as he thought back on some of the things he'd witnessed since joining SHIELD. He'd been with them for about thirty years after all and so had seen a lot. He'd seen many different friendships being formed and then break up over the years, but one thing that he'd noticed during his long career with SHIELD was that the ones that took a long time to form in the first place usually endured.

The ones that happened overnight could end overnight; those that took trust, patience and determination to form in the first place would more often than not stand the test of time. Wilkinson had seen enough to know that Coulson and Barton could very well end up with that, if Coulson could gain the archer's trust and prove he was worthy of that trust he would have a loyal friend for life. Barton was the kind of person who would be loyal to the death if he thought that you'd earned it.

Wilkinson just hoped and prayed that Coulson would make it through this accident so he would have a chance to earn that kind of trust and loyalty. If he died now Wilkinson didn't like to think what could happen to the young, wayward and obviously very lonely and troubled archer that Coulson had taken a chance on recruiting.

* * *

 **End of chapter 8.**

* * *

 **Who agrees with Fury that the meatloaf was poisoned on purpose so the traitor could get to Coulson?**

 **Yes, before you ask, Fury was a cold war spy for the United States. I initially decided on that detail a long time ago and watching one and a half seasons of the Mission Impossible serial from the 60s in a matter of weeks has corrupted me for life. Fury totally did some of those things.**

 **I love Fury-Clint bonding. That's one thing that really grabbed me in the Ultimates Comics, their bond. It's present in the Cinematic Universe as well but I wanted to explore it further and see how it may have started. Fury is a teddy bear inside, he really is, he just can't show it. He might be mistaken for a skrull and shot if he does!**

 **Also, who agrees with me that Wilkinson is awesome?**

 **Next time;**

 _ **Chapter 9: The Waiting Game**_

 **Is anyone else starting to feel that this is Fury's story with everyone else making guest appearances?**


	9. The Waiting Game

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **And so I'm back with our last 8000+ word chapter for this story. That does not mean it is over just yet, far from it; the next chapter ties up loose ends and the one after that is a short epilogue, bringing our grand total of chapters up to 11. I will be posting both on the weekend, one on Saturday and the other on Sunday, so keep an eye out for them. Trust me, you won't want to miss what is coming!**

 **Thanks to my reviewers of chapter 8: CrazedFangirl13, meriadoc33, amy. d. fuller. 9, and Armand.**

 _ **Armand: That is a very good observation you made about Fury. He is always around but you never know what he is doing or what his motivations are.**_

 **Also, my medical knowledge comes from reading too much fanfiction. Apologies for anything that I've gotten wrong.**

 **Thanks as always to jaguarspot. May sounds more like May in this chapter thanks to her.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Hope is the pillar that holds up the world. Hope is the dream of a waking man. _Pliny the Elder_

* * *

 **Chapter 9: The Waiting Game**

Coulson's room was in an uproar.

"Mary get Halden in here now! Hurry up people, this man is going into cardiac arrest, MOVE it!"

"Dr Scott, I've got what you wanted!"

Clint had been dozing; the constant beeping of the monitors Coulson was attached to that showed he was still alive had actually succeeded in lulling him to sleep. He'd woken up with a jump when the machines monitoring Coulson suddenly went crazy, beeping and shrieking loud enough to deafen him if he wasn't already deaf. Within ten seconds the activity in the room had forced Clint to retreat into a corner where he huddled out of the way, trying not to be seen as they worked to get Coulson breathing again.

It seemed to take forever but finally the assembled doctors and nurses all sighed with relief as the monitors finally resumed their slow but steady beeping. Clint suddenly felt very shaky and once the room was mostly empty sat back down in the chair next to the bed. Coulson was still far to pale and still but at least he was alive.

Dr Scott, the same doctor who'd updated Fury on Coulson's progress last night, looked up at Clint from the foot of the bed where he was watching his patient and sighed.

"You okay sir? Do you need anything?"

Though Clint felt numb all over he just shook his head.

"I'm fine."

The doctor frowned.

"Are you sure about that? You don't look fine; in fact you look bloody awful mate." Clint noticed for the first time that the doctor had a very Australian accent and used their slang like it was going out of fashion when he wasn't shouting or cursing someone.

"I said I'm FINE."

The doctor backed off.

"Okay, okay, I just don't want another patient is all and you seriously don't look very good."

At Clint's continued glare Scott backed off even faster and took one more look at Coulson before he exited the room possibly faster than he'd entered it which was saying something.

Clint heard an amused chuckle after the doctor was gone.

"You do realise he just saved Coulson's life don't you Barton? It might be a good idea not to antagonise him."

Clint was still very shaky and scowled at Fury who was standing near the door. How the other man had even got in without Clint noticing showed how good a spy he was. Fury stepped away from the door and looked down at Coulson.

He said nothing, just looked for what seemed like an eternity before sighing and looking at Clint.

"How are you holding up?"

Clint shrugged and didn't bother to answer; he wasn't holding up very well at all which was the reason he'd snapped at the doctor. Fury seemed to realise that and being the super-spy he was able to apparently read Clint's mind again.

"You aren't holding up are you? New question, do you think you can at least try to be civil to the doctors who are trying to save Coulson's life?"

Clint lost the staring contest that ensured from Fury's question. Looking away he swallowed; his mouth suddenly very dry as he shrugged.

"I can try but no promises."

Fury just nodded.

"I think that you need a break Barton, go and shower and have something to eat. That's an order" he added as Barton opened his mouth, more than likely intending to protest, "and I will sit with Coulson while you do it. You're not the only one around here who's worried; pretty much everyone in the organisation knows Coulson and is currently worried about him."

Clint almost challenged Fury but the no nonsense look and obvious steel will he saw in the Directors eye caused him to back off, this was a fight he couldn't hope to win and Clint didn't like picking a fight he knew he didn't have even a slight chance of winning. The last thing Clint saw as he left the room was Fury sitting down in the chair he'd just vacated and give him a small nod before looking at Coulson.

* * *

It had now been about twenty-four hours since the surgery and Phil was still hanging in there, as Fury had said he was a stubborn son of a bitch. The doctors still wouldn't say anything apart from his chances being about fifty/fifty at this point, if he survived another fourteen hours there was a good chance that he would make it through. The bedside vigil had been rotating with even Wilkinson and May taking turns to sit in on Coulson; as soon as May heard what had happened she'd come off desk duty to organise everyone so they could all have enough breaks so as not to collapse and keep up with their regular workload while ensuring that there was still someone sitting with Phil at all times. May being May everyone did as she asked.

There were five of them who volunteered so May organised it so they each had two hours on Coulson-bedside-vigil duty before having eight off. May, Clint, Johnson Hughes (who'd surfaced from whatever paperwork assignment he'd been doing as soon as he'd heard what had happened to Phil and wanted to help his old friend), Wilkinson and the Director himself made up the five.

Many other agents visited Coulson, he was well known and liked by pretty much everyone and there were very few people who didn't look in at least once to see how he was doing once they heard what had happened.

May was on her way down to medical to take over from Hughes when Harrison pushed past her heading away from the critical care ward and hurried away. May frowned at his retreating back before marching into the room and scaring the heck out of Hughes who'd just taken a sip from a cup of coffee and almost dropped it at her stormy expression.

"What the hell was Harrison just doing in here?"

Hughes almost jumped a mile into the air at her tone of voice alone and actually succeeded in spilling his fresh coffee all over the back of his right hand. He gave a startled yelp as he got burnt and after transferring the cup into his other hand glared at May who was standing there with her hands on her hips looking every inch the hard core SHIELD agent she was, even with the white cast still on her wrist she succeeded in intimidating the shit out of Hughes.

"He heard about the accident and came to see how Coulson was and to give me a fresh coffee. What's wrong with that May? I know that you don't like the guy but _seriously_? I like my coffee!"

May glared.

"I have my reasons for not liking him Hughes and they are classified. He didn't do anything while he was here?"

Hughes blinked in bewilderment.

"What do you mean by that? He just watched Coulson for a while and gave me a fresh cup of coffee from his secret stash which is now half empty thanks to you. I honestly don't know why you don't like the guy May, he's really thoughtful if you just give him a chance. You know him and Coulson are good friends so why the theatrics?"

The look he received in answer actually made Hughes consider whether bolting for the door was a viable option, it was probably a wise idea. Before either of them could do or say anything else the monitors attached to Coulson suddenly went crazy again. Hughes and May managed to make it out the door before a swarm of medical personnel conveyed on Coulson but in the process Hughes lost most of the rest of his coffee. He quietly sighed and chucked the cup in the bin, giving it up as a lost cause.

May and Hughes stood together outside the room and watched in silence as the medics worked to get Coulson breathing again. It happened a lot quicker than last time and everyone watching breathed a collective sigh of relief when the beeping resumed, even if it was rather weak it at least meant Coulson was still alive.

A female doctor came out of the room after a while and addressed the two field agents standing there.

"Whose turn is it to keep watch?"

May stepped forward.

"Mine."

The doctor nodded.

"Okay, all the machines monitoring his vitals are linked in directly to our emergency station just down the hall but if anything happens make sure you use the emergency button to call us, someone will be here within ten seconds. You understand?"

Both the agents nodded and the doctor continued.

"It's still touch and go as you saw but the fact he is hanging in there and we are able to revive him is a good sign. Even though we have him on life support and may have to keep him on it for some time his chances are improving the longer he is alive."

The words had barely left her mouth before the machines went erratic again; muttering something under her breath the doctor disappeared into the room again along with a few others who had been in the process of leaving. May looked at Hughes with an expression that looked suspiciously akin to despair.

"Do you think we should get everyone else down here?"

Hughes barely had to think before he nodded.

"Yes, Barton, Wilkinson and the Director need to be told what's happening. I don't suppose that you have them on speed dial? I don't have a phone."

May pulled out her personal phone and scrolled through her contacts.

"I have Wilkinson's number, Barton doesn't have a phone and who knows what Fury has."

Hughes didn't take his eyes off the doctors and nurses frantically working on Coulson.

"Call it in."

* * *

Fury picked up the pile of paperwork with a nod at the secretary who handed it to him and took it into his office. Once he'd removed his coat and sat down in his chair he let out a sigh and dropped his head so it rested on his hands. He was in a mess over Coulson; it was only his years of experience that kept him from cracking and losing it completely. He'd been chosen as Director of SHIELD for a reason; part of that reason was that not much rattled him. Fury was too experienced and stubborn a person to let personal feelings get in the way of doing the right thing. Because of this many people thought he didn't have a soul. Fury wished that was the truth; it would definitely make his life a lot less complicated if it was.

Fury reached for the first file and opened it to see a note stuck on the first page.

 _156 Jerking's Drive, 9:30pm tonight. Come alone._

Fury glanced around by habit to check that he was alone, never mind that he was sitting in his private office with the door closed and locked. After what he'd been through in his life Fury knew the moment you let yourself think you were alone was the moment that you died due to a knife in your back.

Once he was satisfied he was indeed alone he looked at the address again. He knew where it was, a deserted house in a block that was scheduled for demolition as soon as the council got around to it. What he didn't know was who had sent the note. Obviously whoever had done it wanted to stay under the radar, either that or it was the traitor going to take Nick out. Regardless Nick knew he would do as they asked and not take anyone with him. He probably wouldn't have taken anyone with him anyway, he wasn't sure who he could trust at the moment and a top secret meeting should be just that, a top secret meeting.

That knowledge didn't stop him wondering who sent the note though.

Nick pressed his finger to the biometric lock on his top drawer, it popped open a moment later and he removed the cigarette lighter he kept there. Another minute and the note was ashes in his bin, its message long since committed to memory by arguably the world's greatest spy.

Fury was so deep in thought that the buzz of his intercom actually succeeded in making him jump. When it kept buzzing Fury frowned, the last thing he wanted to do right how was to deal with whatever had happened to whoever was outside but as the Director of SHIELD he didn't have that luxury.

Fury answered the buzzer with one word.

"What?"

His secretary wasn't the least put off. There was a reason she was his secretary after all.

"Agent Wilkinson is here. He says it's about Agent Coulson."

Fury set a record time for getting out of his office. Once outside he spied Wilkinson very quickly and noted the panicked look on his face.

"What's happened?"

Wilkinson answered rapidly.

"We have to get down to medical right now. I just heard from May and Coulson's not doing too good."

Later on Fury would deny to his dying day that he actually ran down to Coulson's room in medical, he simply walked faster than normal. When they arrived there was a number of people including May, Barton, Hughes and even Boyd who was currently supposed to be out on a mission had already gathered in the waiting area. May came over as soon as she saw them.

"Good, you're here."

Wilkinson didn't waste any time.

"What the hell happened May?"

"Coulson flat lined again, twice in the space of about a minute. They managed to revive him both times but we thought we should call you down anyway as he's not good."

Fury nodded, keeping his Directors mask firmly in place.

"What do the doctors say?"

It was Hughes who answered him from his position near the viewing window where he was watching the doctor's work on Coulson.

"They aren't saying anything at this point."

"Won't say or don't know?"

May answered in a steady voice.

"I think that it could be the later. They've been looking pretty grim."

Fury looked through the viewing window himself and internally frowned at seeing all the doctors that were still in the room with Coulson. There seemed to be an awful lot of them. Fury wanted to know more but knew if May couldn't get it out of the doctors than there probably wasn't anything more information to get, that woman was scary when she wanted to be, not quite Fury level scary but still pretty intimidating in her own right.

* * *

They were back to the waiting game.

Fury hated waiting and it was the one thing that he seemed to spend most of his life doing. He was always waiting for something or other to happen or someone to get back to him or make up their minds about something.

It was doubtlessly at least five times as hard waiting when your best friend was hovering between life and death as he lay unconscious in a hospital bed.

Fury was in the room watching Coulson. With a soft sigh the Director of SHIELD exited the room in time to hear Boyd ask a question.

"What exactly happened on that mission? All I know is that Coulson is in medical as a result. What led to it?"

It didn't seem to be aimed at anyone in particular and it was unsurprisingly May who answered him.

"I believe that their car hit a bomb and it did what bombs tend to do when they are disturbed. That's all I know."

May lowered her voice but Fury still heard her perfectly thanks to his above average hearing.

"Fury probably knows more about it but he's not going to tell that's for sure."

May raised her voice again so that even though Fury was getting further away he still heard her perfectly.

"Okay, whose turn is it to sit guard?"

* * *

Clint was watching Coulson, it was just wrong to see the agent lying there looking so helpless, not even able to breathe without the aid of machines. Coulson was steady now and the doctors said he was healing as well as was to be expected at this stage but wouldn't give any numbers regarded the chances of his survival except to say they didn't know. The non-answer and lack of information was driving Clint's anxiety levels to new heights, it didn't help that his emotions regarding Coulson were still slightly haywire. Realistically he knew the doctors were doing everything in their power to save Coulson and for that reason he was trying to be nice to them, the problem was he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to be 'nice'. In the end he figured not glaring at them like he was about to eat them might be a good place to start.

The Agent had flat lined several hours ago but the doctors had managed to revive him and he'd been steady ever since. Clint had been on the shooting range when Wilkinson had gotten the message from May; he'd forced himself to put his bow and arrows away where they belonged before racing down to medical. He'd arrived just as the doctors revived Coulson, he hadn't flat lined since but Clint was still on edge at the possibility it could happen again and couldn't relax, the whole time he was there he was dreading the beeping that would mean Coulson's heart had stopped again. It has been almost six hours now but Clint knew the risk of the agent dying was still very high and if he didn't wake up soon it would rise even more.

It was Clint's turn to sit with Coulson and he was alone. Well alone in the sense that there was no one else actually in the room with him as the doctors and nurses were still within easy calling distance. There was also camera surveillance but Clint wasn't too worried about that right now.

Clint shifted in the chair as he tried to make himself more comfortable, a pretty much impossible feat in the hard plastic chairs. A concrete floor would probably be more comfortable than these chairs were. Clint sighed as he rested his elbows on the bed and used his hands to support his chin as he watched Coulson.

For a long time the only sound in the room was the beeping of the machines and then Clint spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper as his lips hardly moved.

"Coulson, please wake up. In this last month alone you've done more nice things for me than any other person has done in my whole life and if you don't wake up I don't know what I'll do."

Clint's voice broke and he briefly touched the Agent's hand where it was lying totally still on the bed to reassure himself before he was able to continue.

"So please Coulson, just wake up. The doctors are starting to worry; I can see it in their eyes. Fury said you've cheated death before and survived when all the odds were against you. I don't know if that makes your chances better or worse but please Coulson, just come back. SHIELD needs you."

Clint practically mouthed the last words as he was too scared to say them out loud and acknowledge the implication they held for his whole life.

" _I need you as well Coulson. I don't know if I'll survive in SHIELD without you"_

It was a scary thought.

* * *

In his dream he was flying.

Coulson gazed down at the soft green fields and smiled as he felt the breeze on his face. This was the life, forget missions, forget SHIELD, it was just him and the birds. Shit he was flying; did he have wings? A quick glance confirmed he didn't and almost simultaneously he started falling. Coulson tried to remain in the air but it was no good, he was falling too fast, but that was strange, he hadn't hit the ground yet though he'd been falling for what felt like hours...

Coulson blinked. He was suddenly trapped in a deep hole with no way out, far away over his head he could see a glimmer of light but there was no way to get to that light. Coulson desperately looked for a way out but the walls were completely smooth with no hand or foot holds of any sort. Phil frowned as he contemplated what to do next when he heard the rush of water coming towards him. Funny, there wasn't any hole for the water to come from. Phil yelled in sudden fear as the torrent of water came out of nowhere and carried him along with it until at some point he blacked out...

When Phil finally came to he was standing on a rooftop looking through a sniper rifle at his target. At least he knew what to do here. He had the shot so he took it but even though they were hit the target turned and looked at him with sadness and it was suddenly his mom. Phil screamed but quick as lighting she was gone, replaced with a man who had a cruel smile that Phil remembered all too well. He tried to scream for help but no sound came out as the murderer approached him welding a bloody cutlass. Wait cutlass? What on earth...

Suddenly Phil was in a hospital room watching the doctor's work on the still form of a body. Try as he might he couldn't quite see who the body belonged to and suddenly they all disappeared and Phil was left standing all alone in a windowless white painted room. He tried to move and realised that he couldn't though there didn't seem to be anything physically stopping him from moving. Phil frowned as he tried to figure out what that meant. If you couldn't move that normally meant you were restrained in some way but he wasn't restrained as far as he could tell. Phil blinked and the white walls were suddenly very colourful, they seemed to turn into rainbows. Phil felt dizzy and so closed his eyes as blackness settled around him.

He'd thought he was alone and so the voice really startled him. He tried to open his eyes but found he couldn't. He didn't know who was speaking but he felt that he knew that voice. Phil finally gave up the struggle to remember and instead just listened.

"Coulson, please wake up. In this last month alone you've done more nice things for me than any other person has done in my whole life and if you don't wake up I don't know what I'll do."

That voice was definitely familiar but Phil still couldn't place it. He wanted to open his eyes to see who it was but they still wouldn't obey him and that fact was beginning to really annoy Phil. Phil started drifting into blackness again when the voice jolted him again.

"So please Coulson just wake up. The doctors are starting to worry; I can see it in their eyes. Fury said you've cheated death before and survived when all the odds were against you. I don't know if that makes your chances better or worse but please Coulson just came back. SHIELD needs you."

Right, SHIELD. Wait, what was shield? Wasn't it like a...a...a Phil gave up trying to remember and drifted along on the river, free from any worries. He thought the mysterious voice was gone but then he heard it again.

"I need you as well Coulson. I don't know if I'll survive in SHIELD without you."

Phil found he could open his eyes again but when he did no one was there. Instead he was sitting all alone on a hill watching the clouds drift by. Phil frowned and looked around for the owner of the voice but he saw no one. Odd, he was sure someone had been there a moment ago. It was like he was in a bad dream.

Phil frowned, was he in a dream? Maybe that was why things weren't making sense. If that was the case Phil wanted to wake up, he'd had enough weirdness for now. Phil tried to move and found he couldn't, again. This was starting to really be annoying. Phil concentrated on trying to move but it didn't seem to be working. Phil sighed and closed his eyes in defeat as he drifted off again.

* * *

Consciousness came very slowly.

Everything was pleasantly numb and that alone told Coulson that he was on good drugs. He'd had more experiences than he would like of waking up in medical units of all descriptions and he knew the feeling of waking up drugged. Wait, why did he need to be on drugs? Phil found he could move again and opened his eyes in panic as he attempted to get up but strong hands pushed him back onto what he knew was a bed with gentle force. Phil tried to fight but the drugs rendered him hopeless and whoever was holding him down had no trouble subduing him. Phil still tried to fight it until a voice stopped him.

"Coulson, STOP FIGHTING! You've been in a coma for two days and before that you were in a nasty accident so will you lie down already before you reopen your stitches?"

It was the voice from the dream. Phil found that his eyes weren't actually open so he fixed that and looked into very worried blue eyes. At first he couldn't place them and then in a rush everything came back to him.

Clint Barton, this man's name was Clint Barton.

He was Phil's responsibility.

Phil blinked as his memories pieced themselves together again.

He was a SHIELD agent. There had been an accident and he'd apparently gotten pretty badly injured if the muted pain he was in was any indicator. How long ago had it happened? Phil tried to ask a question but his mouth was too dry and all he managed was a croak. Barton quickly brought a cup of water with a straw in it to his lips and he gratefully sipped the cool liquid. Once he'd had enough he tried speaking again and found his second attempt was more successful.

"What happened? Did we complete the mission and how many of the team are injured?"

Later on Phil would blame the drugs for messing with his brain but at the time he couldn't think straight as everything was spinning in circles and his first thought was for his team. Phil didn't understand why this helpful man who'd given him a drink was now looking at him with an expression that he couldn't decipher. Hey, he was just asking after his team! What was wrong with that?

"YOU almost DIED! And you wake up after an almost three day coma and ask about your team! What the HELL COULSON, you almost DIED!"

Phil blinked.

"Did I? I don't remember it."

Barton looked like he might be having hysterics and Phil wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about it but just then he was saved from having to do anything by the arrival of another person he recognised. Phil grinned idiotically at him.

"Hi Boss, long time no see. Why have you got pink wings?"

Not a face muscle twitched.

"I see they have you on the good drugs Phil."

Barton practically yelled at that and Phil winced as he tried to cover his ears but found his hands wouldn't move. Suddenly wondering if he still had them Phil looked down and was relieved to find that yes, he still had his hands. Just as well he did, paperwork would be a bitch without them. Well it was a bitch with them but if he didn't have hands...

"Coulson! Can you hear me? Hallo, anyone home?"

Phil blinked rapidly at the hand waving in front of his face and frowned as his eyes followed the hand back to Nick Fury's face. Not seeing Barton Phil frowned and looked around the room but he wasn't there. Fury must have realised what he was looking for.

"Barton has left for a break now that you are awake. He's barely slept the last few days and has been worried sick over you the whole time. We all have been; even I thought for a while there that you weren't going to make it through but you did. Welcome back to the land of the living Phil. Do you remember anything about what happened or are you still too high on painkillers to think straight?"

* * *

Clint had almost had a heart attack when Coulson had suddenly come to life and tried to escape the bed. At least that was what Clint thought he'd tried to do. It had become obvious to the young assassin very quickly that Coulson and drugs weren't necessarily a good mix. Maybe it would have been entertaining under different circumstances but it was definitely not a good mix either way.

Clint had been immensely relieved when Fury had taken over and handled this smiling and extremely happy version of Coulson, Clint didn't know what he would have done. Nothing in his life had taught him how to handle a situation like this but it obviously wasn't the first time Coulson had reacted negatively to drugs if Fury's calm about it all was anything to go by. Clint was slightly pissed that he hadn't been warned about it ahead of time so it wouldn't give him a heart attack. It had probably slipped everyone's mind in the confusion of the aftermath of the accident but Clint would still have liked some advanced warning.

Fury had dismissed Clint after his little freak out and told him to go and get some rest, that it was his turn to stay with Coulson anyway. Clint was slightly ashamed of how fast he'd done just that but he didn't feel up to dealing with this version of Agent Coulson and so he'd fled. Agent Coulson was calm, unruffled, steady, and above all reasonable. Unless he was on drugs apparently, if that was the case all those qualities went out the window along with the Agent's sanity.

Actually, going outside didn't sound like a bad idea right now. Clint knew that Fury had told him to rest but there was no chance of that happening just yet and Fury had to know that. Clint hadn't gone for a run for a few days and suddenly longed for the feeling of the wind on his face and the crunching of leaves and twigs underfoot. He was allowed on the cross-country course whenever he liked now as long as he let one of the trainers know what he was doing and there weren't any lessons on the course at the time. Clint swiftly checked in with Shelley who gave him an okay before he went to his room to change into shoes that were suitable for running long distances which combat boots really weren't as they were too heavy. Clint let his mind go blank as he jogged down to the start of the course and began his run.

* * *

At nine fifteen pm that night Fury walked into the front yard of the empty house at one hundred and fifty-six Jerking's Drive on near silent feet, using the scant cover he could find and the shadows that were available to his advantage. Nick slipped into the back yard and hid while he took a good look around, he didn't see anyone but as he was early he stayed hidden behind the bush. Whoever had sent that note could make the first move. Nick remove the gun he had hidden in a shoulder holster underneath his coat and after checking that the one on his belt and the one in his boot were all present waited in silence, gun at the ready. He didn't normally carry a whole lot of weapons with him but the Director of SHIELD was practically a walking arsenal tonight for security reasons. He didn't know who he was meeting or what they wanted and so it was better to be safe than sorry.

Today had been really stressful. This morning Coulson had finally woken from his coma after almost dying several times and had reacted to the drugs medical had given him; that man really couldn't handle strong painkillers. It hadn't fazed Fury but had succeeded in freaking Barton out. Fury was still kicking himself that he hadn't thought to warn the boy that Coulson behaved strangely when he was drugged but he hadn't given it much thought as he was so used to it. Fortunately Barton had gotten over his shock and even stayed with Coulson for part of the afternoon for which Fury was grateful. He didn't want to traumatise Barton where Phil was concerned, the kid was traumatised enough already.

Fury waited there for a going on twenty minutes before the soft crunch of someone walking on stones alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone anymore. There was a dim light in the yard due to the streetlights out the front and the newly risen moon; it was thanks to them that Fury was able to see the slim figure fairly clearly as they entered the back yard and almost gasped in surprise.

It was Agent Melinda May.

Fury actually blinked. This put an interesting take on things.

May stood near the house and didn't move or say anything for about a minute. Fury didn't move either. May was the first to speak.

"I know you're here, I also know that you've come alone just like I asked. It's safe Fury, I spent the last twenty minutes scouting the area out. I can guarantee that there is no one around but us so you can come out of hiding now."

"What say we both come out of hiding and you tell me what the hell is happening."

"Okay."

On queue both of them left the shadows and met in the middle of the yard. Fury glared at May as he spoke but her stony facial expression didn't budge.

"What the hell do you want and why did you go to such lengths to arrange a meeting with me? You could have come and asked!"

May's scowl deepened.

"No one in SHIELD is currently to be trusted. Nick, there is a traitor in the organisation."

It was only years of experience that kept Fury focused and calm.

"Why do you say that? Do you have proof?"

Her answer surprised him.

"Yes, I do."

Fury's tone was like steel.

"What is this proof? This is a very serious accusation Agent May."

May removed a file from the bag she was carrying and handed it over without a word. Fury saw it was a generic shield folder and didn't have anything special written on it. Frowning internally Nick opened it to see a standard coded SHIELD transmission. Nothing suspicious about that surely. On closer inspection however Fury noticed there were pencil notations on the page and on every row at least one letter was circled. May's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"Look at the next page."

Fury did and whistled softly. There, in May's neat handwriting, was a decoded message. After reading the translation Fury looked at May.

"How did you get this?"

May looked grim.

"You know how I've been confined to desk duty after Mexico?"

Fury nodded and motioned for her to continue.

"Well needless to say it's often really boring and me being bored isn't really a good thing."

Fury held up his hand.

"Stop there May. We both know that's not the truth in this situation so tell me, why did you go looking for this information?"

May's answer was sharp.

"I suspected a traitor. Several things just weren't adding up."

"Like what?"

"Missions that should be milk-runs but instead went sideways because of leaked Intel and almost killed us in the process. Classified secrets somehow finding their way into the hand of those who would use them for evil. After Mexico I started smelling a rat, it wasn't until Coulson that I became really suspicious and started looking deeper. This wasn't easy to find, I've spent the last few nights poring over every single document related to the Mexico fiasco. Needless to say I haven't slept much. This is the first lead I found."

Fury looked at May with a narrowed eye.

"How do I know you're not the traitor and you're doing this to throw me off my game?"

May's steely gaze locked with Fury's.

"You don't. But remember that I was almost killed in that mission and while I'll happily take risks for the greater good I'm not suicidal. This isn't my doing Fury, I'm not betraying SHIELD. But someone is and they have to be stopped. You don't have to trust me Fury, just let me keep digging and passing on anything that I find to you."

Fury was still staring at May.

"So let me get this straight. You suspected something was wrong after Coulson."

"I actually started having suspicions after Mexico but that was when I started digging for information yes."

"And as you are currently suspended from field duties you decided to look into matters yourself without telling anyone. Why?"

"I wasn't sure of anything, accidents may happen but this just didn't seem like a regular accident. Also, I had no idea who could be responsible and I knew that if I was to take this to you then I needed to have some proof."

Fury nodded.

"Good thinking. So you started digging and after many late nights managed to find a code in a transmission involving that Mexico op. You broke the code and proceeded to get in touch with me. Am I right so far?"

"Perfectly on track."

"This code contained the location, time, number of Agents and all the other information regarding Mexico. Do you have any idea where it was sent?"

May shook her head.

"No. There is no record of transmission for this document, it somehow slipped through and wherever it was sent it's untraceable. Whoever is doing this obviously has a fairly high clearance level but I wouldn't be surprised if there is more than one traitor."

"Why do you say that?"

"Common sense. If I was planning to infiltrate a secret government organisation I'd post different people at different clearance levels to make things easier and throw suspicion off any one person. If it's not clear what level or department they're in than the chances of succeeding in whatever mission they were assigned are better."

"It's worse than I thought."

May frowned.

"You knew about this?"

"I've had my suspicious that we have a traitor for a while now but haven't been able to prove anything. This is the first hard evidence I've had to confirm my fears. This is not good."

May was scanning the garden to make sure they were still alone but turned back to Fury at that.

"No, this is most diffidently not good. What do we do now boss? No one in SHIELD can be trusted."

"Then we trust no one, not even each other."

May blinked and looked slightly horrified at Fury's words.

"You're not the traitor are you? Please tell me you're not."

Fury almost grinned at the question.

"No, I am not a traitor May. I might lie for a living but I am not lying when I say I'm not a traitor to SHIELD. I will find them though, and when I do I will make them pay dearly for what they've done. You can be assured of that."

"If I don't get to them first. Don't forget I've got a broken wrist and one of my best friends almost died, if I find whoever is doing this I'll have them screaming for mercy before I even touch the gun to finish them off."

Fury didn't doubt that, May could be a fury when she was in the right frame of mind. It didn't happen very often, in the five years she'd been with SHIELD Fury had seen it happen exactly twice and both had been hostage situations. May was very dangerous when she was in that mood and Fury knew if she caught the traitor first they would wish they had never been born long before she was done with them.

Both Agents stood there for another moment before Fury broke the silence.

"Anything else that you want to tell me Agent May or are we done here?"

"We're done. I just wanted to tell you about a traitor and show you this. What are you going to do now?"

Fury's grinned manically, May blinked at him and actually took an involuntary step back before she realised what she was doing and stopped. Fury was still smiling when he spoke.

"That's classified. I can tell you what you're going to do however. Agent May, I have a new assignment for you."

May stood ramrod straight and nodded.

"Okay, what are your orders sir?"

Fury's grin was truly terrifying and May knew what he was about to say would be good. She wasn't disappointed.

"We are going to find these sons of bitches and show them what happens when you betray SHIELD and mess with its Agents. Here is what I want you to do."

* * *

 _Two days later._

Clint hesitated outside the door to Fury's office. He'd been on the range with his bow when Fury's secretary had brought him the message that the Director wanted to see him right away. As he followed her Clint's mind went over everything he might have done wrong and came up with nothing. He'd spent pretty much all his waking hours over the last couple of days either on the range, in training or sitting with Coulson who was recovering very well and wasn't on quite so many drugs now. That being the case he hadn't had much time to work on Fury's assignment; listening to the doctors and nurses gossip was the extent of what he'd done to date and that hadn't revealed anything useful. Clint wasn't sure what he could actually do at the moment without arousing suspicions. The incident with Conway had really shaken him up and he was in no hurry for a repeat performance any time soon.

Clint took a deep silent breath and knocked sharply on the door before he could lose his nerve. He waited for an 'enter' before opening it and stepping inside, carefully closing the door behind him.

Fury didn't acknowledge him until he'd sat down. Only then did he look up.

"You are registered to start at the Academy on Wednesday which gives you two days to prepare. Pack light, you may have to share a bunk room and there won't be a lot of room for personal stuff. Congratulations Barton, as of now you are a trainee of SHIELD"

Clint blinked.

"You said that I couldn't officially enter training until I had my GED does that mean...but it's only been a few days! How..."

Fury handed him a sheet of paper.

"I had your test scores rushed so that's why it took less than a week, it normally takes much longer. Take a look Barton."

Even though he was almost trembling Clint's hands when they took the piece of paper were as steady as ever. Quickly turning it around Clint looked for his score and found it. His jaw dropped as he stared at the black ink blinking rapidly. This couldn't be right, there had to have been some mistake.

"Congratulations Barton, you passed with flying colours and now officially have your GED with one of the highest test scores I have seen in a fair while. All your studying and dedication has certainly paid off."

Clint could only mutely nod as he was still in a state of shock. He'd never thought of himself as being anything but a stupid, uneducated carnie trash and here he was looking at the proof that he was anything but.

"Does Coulson know?"

Fury glanced up from his computer screen at Clint.

"Not yet, I just got the results through about ten minutes ago and printed them out and called you straight away. You and I are the only two who know the news at this point. You can go and tell him if you want to, we can discuss details for the Academy enrolment later."

Clint only nodded as he got up; clutching the results to his chest he left Fury's office and headed down to medical still in a bit of a daze. When he arrived Coulson was reading a book which he put down immediately when he saw Clint.

"What have you got there?"

Clint was very glad that the Agent was coherent again. As soon as they could the doctors had dialled back the morphine which was causing the issue and put him on other stuff that didn't have the same side affect.

Clint didn't answer the question and instead just wordlessly held out the bit of paper. After a moment's hesitation Coulson must have realised something was up and took the page, his eyes skimming over it. Seconds later he looked up at Clint with a huge smile.

"Congratulations. I knew you could do it."

Clint sat down and studying his hands.

"It's because of you that I was able to do it."

"No it's not." Coulson carefully placed the paper on the bed as he looked at Clint. "No Barton, this was all your doing. I helped out a bit and gave you a place to study undisturbed but this end result is all due to you and your hard work. You totally deserve this so don't you dare think otherwise."

Clint was still studying his hands and wouldn't meet Coulson's eyes. The older man just sighed and didn't push the issue.

"When do you start at the Academy? Do you know yet?"

Clint was still studying his hands.

"Yes, according to Fury I start next Wednesday."

Coulson raised an eyebrow.

"That's fast. Fury must have pulled a few strings."

Clint just shrugged.

Phil smiled and settled comfortably back on his pillows.

"I'm to be discharged Thursday if all goes well according to the Doctors so make sure you come and see me before you go. I'll still be here then."

Clint clutched the test results in his hand and nodded once.

"I will."

Coulson smiled happily. He was still high on drugs though thankfully his reaction was less noticeable with them than it was with morphine.

"That's great; after all I probably won't see you for a couple of months after next week. While you go through the Academy's training I am taking enforced leave to give me time to heal, it's the only way to make the Doctors agree to let me go. I'm not allowed to do anything strenuous for at least eight weeks and have to be cleared by medical before I can go back to field work."

Just then a nurse entered the room and smiled apologetically at Clint.

"Coulson is due for another dose of painkillers so he will probably be knocked out in ten minutes or so. Do you want to stay or come back later?"

Before Clint could reply Coulson spoke in a slightly breathless voice.

"Stay, please say you'll stay."

Clint sighed and gave the nurse a nod as she injected something into the drip that was attached to Coulson's arm.

"All right."

Coulson just smiled as his eyes drifted closed. Clint stayed with him until his breathing evened out and he was asleep. As he left the med bay Clint wondered what his future at SHIELD might consist of, a spy's world was a dangerous place and Clint was determined to be up to the challenge. He didn't want to fail the only people who'd ever given him a chance to redeem himself and do some good.

That might prove be harder than it sounded as Clint hadn't forgotten what Fury had told him a few weeks ago on the roof.

Apparently, not everyone felt that same sense of loyalty and devotion towards SHIELD, its Agents and its Director.

* * *

 **End of chapter 9.**

* * *

 **Coulson + drugs = happy, hallucinating Coulson and not so happy everyone else.**

 **May now knows about the traitors/mole and has given Fury concrete evidence that they exist. Only time will tell what happens next. (well, that and another story)**

 **Also, I just realised that I seem to really like almost killing people. I hope that it doesn't become a problem.**

 **Next chapter;**

 _ **Chapter 10: Aftermath & Epilogue 1**_

 **Don't forget to let me know what your thoughts are on this chapter!**


	10. Aftermath and Epilogue 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

 **A/N**

 **Thanks to reviewers of chapter 9;**

 **CrazedFangirl13, amy. d. fuller. 9, Armandis.**

 **Also, thanks as usual to jaguarspot for the beta-ing.**

 **Only one more to go after this guys, and that's an epilogue to start off the next phase of the storyline. So the actual Clint, Phil, Fury and May part ends here. I hope that you enjoy.**

 **Epilogue 2 will be up tomorrow at some point. I'll also be releasing titles and brief summaries of some other stories that are planned and titles pretty concrete at the end of the epilogue.**

* * *

Where the battle rages, there the loyalty of the soldier is proved. _Martin Luther_

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Aftermath**

Clint was sitting in his usual spot on the roof of the SHIELD complex gazing out into the night when he heard the door grate on its hinges. Clint didn't bother to look to see who it was; he already knew it was Fury. He wasn't surprised to see him; after all Fury was the one who had requested this meeting.

Well, the note he'd found slipped under the door when he'd gotten back to his room from his mandatory, absolutely non-negotiable, no-excuses-short-of-dying-accepted appointment with the shrink hadn't been signed but Clint had known instantly who'd sent it. After all, who else knew about his habit of spending most of his free time up on the roof?

Well, Coulson apparently knew he liked the roof but the Agent was currently doped up in medical hopefully sleeping.

That left one person.

Fury.

Clint didn't need to turn around to know that the Director had sat down on the roof where he'd sat last time they'd talked up here. Neither said anything for some time, instead they both just sat there enjoying the silence and tranquillity. It was Clint who finally broke the silence.

"Why did you want to see me sir?"

Fury turned to look at him; Clint stared right back without blinking.

"I wanted to talk to you before you head off to the Academy tomorrow and to give you some advice. Before that though, have you heard anything suspicious that you want to bring to my attention? How is the mission going?"

Clint shook his head in response to the first question.

"Nothing that is really interesting. I can tell you never to use the coffee machine in the level two break room as someone is always swapping out the real coffee for decaf thinking it's funny, I haven't been able to figure out who's doing it yet which is kind of annoying but that's not my top priority. Molly from accounting keeps complaining that her pens are growing legs and walking away and accuses her co-workers of stealing them while the real culprit is her forgetfulness. She must have a draw full of pens at her home that she isn't aware exist. The number of crushes that exist in SHIELD is more than what exist in a juice bar and for almost everyone being a trained spy the amount of signs they miss and the way they are completely oblivious to the fact that the other has a thing for them is laughable or sad for humanity, take your pick. I could go on and on about these sort of things but I don't think any of what I've found out is relevant to the mission."

Fury nodded.

"Okay, thanks for the tip about the coffee. How did the appointment with Kalman go this afternoon? Did he pass you?"

Clint shrugged.

"I don't know, I didn't ask."

Fury raised his eyebrow.

"According to the report you didn't ask anything at all. You didn't even speak. How you got away with it I'm not sure but he did pass you, on one condition. You will have mandatory counselling sessions at the Academy twice a week, and, like this one, they are non-negotiable. If you miss one without a very good reason then privileges, like range-time and other things you enjoy, will be taken away. It's not by my decision so don't give me that look, the rules state that all agents have to be psychologically stable before they graduate from training and the shrinks have to be satisfied that they aren't going to have a mental breakdown during a mission and compromise themselves or other agents. I know that you like making life difficult for those around you Barton but it would be in your best interest to at least pretend to cooperate. I'm sure you could do that quite successfully."

Clint just stared at Fury.

"You're suggesting that I lie to a shrink?"

"Not lie, I said pretend to cooperate. There is a difference."

"I don't see one."

"You will in time. Welcome to a spy's life Barton."

Neither of them said anything for a while after that, instead they just sat there and enjoyed the silence. It was Fury who eventually broke the silence.

"So Barton, do you have any other questions that you want to ask about the mission before you leave tomorrow? If so tell me now. I'm essentially sending you into the Academy undercover as a double agent here so if you have any misgivings about anything now is the time to speak up."

Clint nodded.

"Okay then, what exactly do you want me to do there? It's not like I've got a clearance level, I haven't even officially entered training yet so I'm not sure what I'm going to be able to do. A traitor isn't going to be at a new recruit level if they've really been going on as long as they have."

Fury nodded grimly.

"You are correct. However, new recruits might be an easy target to persuade to join the dark side if they can be convinced that it's the right thing to do. People are gullible Barton; we both know that to be true. Given your unique skill set if they are persuading young agents to change sides you will be a prime candidate."

Clint's eyes grew wide.

"You're making it sound like a conspiracy sir; I thought we were simply dealing with a traitor!"

Fury's expression darkened.

"Initially that's what I thought as well. However, I've received new information since the last time we spoke and that information suggests that there is more than one person in on this game. It could very well be a conspiracy and as of yet I don't know any details and have no idea what their game play is. The next move is theirs."

"Barton, I don't think that I really need to tell you how serious this is because I realise you are already well aware of that. But be careful. Don't make people suspicious and make sure you keep your wits about you. But also learn. Just because they might be moles in the organisation there are still extraordinary people in SHIELD that can teach you a lot if you are willing to listen and learn. After all we are sending you to the Academy to learn the skills you'll need to be an agent. Just be on your guard and report back to me anything that you find. Do you understand?"

Clint nodded as he sat up a bit straighter.

"Yes, I do. Do you have any other advice for me?"

"No, that is all for now. If you don't have any questions I'll be off. Just remember to keep your eyes and ears open at all times Barton, and watch your back."

Clint stared at the Director.

"I thought SHIELD was supposed to look after its agents?"

Fury's expression didn't change.

"It is supposed to Barton and I know that telling you to watch your own back is vastly different to what you were told when you signed up. However, when you sighed up I didn't count on this happening. I certainly didn't think for a second that I would tell you about this and ask for your help or that there would be multiple suspicious incidents in less than one month. I didn't think that I would almost lose Coulson to one of those incidents. I didn't think a lot of things that have happened would happen so many things have changed. I don't think I really need to tell you this but be careful out there Barton. I don't want anything to happen to you. That would be counter-productive to what we are trying to achieve."

Clint swallowed around the lump in his throat that formed upon hearing the Director's words although there wasn't any emotion attached to them; Fury was too good a spy for that. His desire to not let the older man down had just increased tenfold. While he would still willingly die for this man he was now going to do his uttermost not to. For perhaps the first time in his life Clint Barton realised that staying alive might achieve more in the long run than dying would as he would be able to do his uttermost to make the world a better place as long as he was alive. That realisation, more than Fury's words, was what shook him to his core. It took a while but eventually, when he felt he could speak without his voice trembling, Clint answered Fury.

"I'll be careful."

Fury's reply was short and to the point like everything Fury did.

"Good. Keep your eyes open out there Barton; you aren't called Hawkeye for nothing, which is how I know you are up to this. Whether there is one traitor or several of them the rules here are the same. Good luck Barton."

With that Fury got up and disappeared without another word leaving Clint to slowly realise what had just happened. The Director had wished him good luck. The no-nonsense hard-core bad-ass Director of SHIELD Nick Fury himself had wished him good luck.

Clint ended up remaining on the roof for a long time that night.

* * *

Fury glanced at the time. Barton should have arrived at the Academy by now and though he knew he wouldn't hear anything, no matter how hard he tried to work Nick simply couldn't concentrate. There was too much other stuff on his mind, on top of wondering if Barton and May would uncover any new information on their traitor or traitors there was the issue of when and how he was going to break the news to Coulson. And whether he would tell him that Barton and May knew or keep it a secret. So far those two didn't know that the other one knew and Nick thought he probably should keep it that way with Coulson as well, at least for now. He just hoped that there would be time later to tell them all and that he was doing the right thing keeping them in the dark for now.

* * *

As Clint stood outside the Academy looking up at the buildings for the first time he thought about Fury's words to him last night.

Whether there was a traitor or a mole in SHIELD it didn't matter; whoever was sabotaging the organisation was dangerous, end of story. Leaked Intel had almost cost both May and Coulson their lives in the space of a few weeks, anyone could be next on their list.

The group Clint was with finished disembarking the bus and happily headed towards the main office complex, Clint picked up his bag and trailed behind them, not joining in their conversation as he continued to think.

Clint didn't know how he was going to do it but he was determined to find the person responsible for hurting those who he considered friends and see that they were punished, he would do it himself if he had to. This mission was now personal for Clint, it meant more than it had before. Almost losing Coulson had put the traitor firmly in Hawkeye's crosshairs and that was never a good place to be for those involved.

As the appointed tour guide came up to the group waiting in the foyer area her warm words of welcome seared themselves into Clint's brain.

"Welcome to SHIELD everyone. My name is Sonia and I will be showing you around today, I hope you will have fun here and learn the skills that will enable you to be successful agents of SHIELD for the rest of your lives. First stop is the bunk rooms..."

As Clint followed the group and the still talking Sonia to the bunkrooms her first words to them continued to echo around in his head.

Yes, Clint thought, welcome to the beginning of the rest of his life. Welcome to the world of spies. Welcome to the world of secrets. Welcome to the world of lies, deceit and death. And loyalty.

In short, welcome to SHIELD.

* * *

 **Epilogue 1:**

Phil couldn't sleep which was very frustrating.

He was tired and had been looking forward to sleeping in his own bed again after several weeks spent in a surprisingly comfortable bed in the medical ward. They'd finally stopped monitoring him at night and just this morning had decided he could sleep in his own bed as long as he kept attending his daily check-ups. Phil had been looking forward to this night for over a week and then finding out he couldn't sleep once he was actually in his own bed was annoying him no end.

He'd laid there with his eyes closed for what felt like hours but sleep continued to elude him. Finally in frustration he'd carefully rolled over and glanced at the clock to find that barely an hour had passed since he'd gone to bed. He could have sworn it had been about five hours but the clock told him otherwise. Sighing in resignation Phil gave up on sleep and laid back on his pillows staring out into the darkness of his room as he thought back over the events of the last few weeks.

It occurred to him right then that he hadn't really had a chance to put things in perspective before now. Medical had been keeping him on a tight schedule and limiting his visitor time as he was still inclined to fall asleep without warning during the day. Medical said that was normal and that sleep would help him heal, as if Phil didn't know that already. What was annoying him was the fact that while he could nod off during the day he was finding sleep impossible now.

So instead of sleeping Phil just laid there thinking over the events of the last few weeks. Clint was now almost two weeks into his training at the Academy and seemed to be going well from what Phil had heard, he was breaking records all over the place and shaping up to be one of the best agents they'd ever had in terms of physical prowess. It was the boy's trust issues and mental health that had Phil slightly worried.

While Phil had been in the coma Barton had spoken to him and shared some very personal thoughts and feelings. Phil hadn't thought much of it until now, as loopy as he'd been on the drugs he hadn't been sure it wasn't an illusion, but the more he thought about the more he had become certain that it had been real. Barton really had said those things to him and that scared Phil like nothing had in a long time.

He wasn't sure that he was worthy of that amount of trust and gratitude. He was absolutely terrified that he would mess up and get Barton killed, missions always carried a risk of death and he wasn't sure he could watch the same thing happen to the archer that had happened to Claire. It had been a couple of years now but the pain of losing her was still great and liable to give him nightmares at times. Phil quickly pulled his thoughts away from that. The last thing he needed right now was to dwell on what had happened back then, it had taken him years but he was slowly learning to let the past go and move on. At least he was before Barton came along.

Barton, well, in a few short weeks the kid had managed to turn Phil's life upside down and inside out. He'd shaken Phil's very foundation to its core and had him questioning things he'd never have thought twice about before. Barton needed a lot but wasn't willing to ask for anything or trust anyone to help him. But what really hurt Phil was the fact that he could act like a little kid at times yet also possessed the wisdom of someone twice his age. Barton hadn't ever been allowed to be a normal kid and so had never grown out of that behaviour and it was painfully obvious at times. At other times he showed the maturity level of someone more than twice his own age.

Phil sighed sadly as he thought about the archer's life before the army and the little they actually knew about it. The answer to that question amounted to a few pages in a file. It was basically the little information that Phil had managed to gather in his initial investigation when they were trying to find the archer and that information didn't amount to much. Despite the numerous questions Barton had been asked about his past by several people in SHIELD ever since he'd been brought in the details they'd actually found out from him first hand were practically non-existent. They were relying on Phil's research to fill in the blanks which was problematic to say the least but they didn't have much of a choice with Barton refusing to tell them anything that happened before Phil and Nick had pulled him out of prison. And those few details painted a pretty grim picture.

Phil non-so-silently cursed as a soft knocking on his door roused him from his thoughts. Hoping it would go away as he was warm and comfortable and didn't want to get up right now he tried to ignore it, but whoever was knocking was very persistent, and they were also getting steadily louder. Grumbling under his breath Phil slowly got out of bed and grabbed the crutches medical had issued him with to avoid putting unnecessary strain on his still healing wounds before hobbling towards the door. Phil glanced through the peephole and saw his visitor was Fury, suddenly alarmed he opened the door and beckoned the Director in. The look on Fury's face had Phil glancing up and down the corridor to see if anyone was spying but he saw no one and so quietly closed and locked the door. Turning to face Fury who was still standing Phil couldn't keep the trepidation out of his eyes.

"What's happened Nick? Is it Barton?"

Fury shook his head and Phil relaxed slightly. It didn't last long.

"I wish it was that simple. No, the kid is doing fine."

Phil's worry came back in full force at Fury's words and the look on his face.

"What's wrong? You are starting to worry me boss."

Fury's frown didn't abate which didn't make Phil feel any better.

"I want you to sit down before you fall down and I'll tell you what is wrong."

Once Phil was settled on his lounge Fury got straight to the point.

"I won't beat about the bush. Phil, I believe that there is a traitor within SHIELD."

Phil could only stare. It was a while before he found his voice but Fury was very patient. Finally it fully registered what his boss had said and Phil's mouth dropped open.

"There's **WHAT** in SHIELD?"

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 **End of chapter 10.**

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 **Yes Phil, you heard correctly. For the record we never get to see the rest of that conversation so feel free to speculate on what happens next!**

 **This is where we say goodbye to our titular characters. that being said tomorrow's epilogue is going to be great and you certainly do not want to miss it.**

 **If you enjoyed this story and have been following it please review and let me know what your thoughts are.**


	11. Epilogue 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.**

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There are no secrets that time does not reveal. _Jean Racine_

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 **Epilogue 2:**

Thunder boomed overhead and lighting split the sky in two as the empty mansion stood up from the landscape like a haunted house, illuminated for a split second by the eerie light before being plunged into darkness again. With its creaky stairs, banging shutters, deep shadows and ghostly breezes it certainly looked like something out of a horror movie.

The front door beeped as a thumbprint was verified before opening silently. With a slight creak of floorboards a hooded figure dressed all in black entered. It wasn't until the door was shut and locked that a voice came out of the blackness of the room they'd stepped into.

"You tell me why I shouldn't call the police on you."

The intruder didn't miss a beat.

"You tell me what you're doing in my apartment."

There was a pause.

"Welcome back brother."

"Good to be back."

The intruder moved to sit down on a couch, still keeping their face hidden in the hood. There was a deep silence broken only by the thunder outside for a few minutes until a deep voice that hadn't yet been heard spoke.

"That's everyone who's coming tonight. Let us begin. As per protocol no lighting of any kind is in use and everyone has been identified by the pass code. So I will get onto the first and most important question for tonight's meeting, what's happening at SHIELD that you feel is important enough to warrant a meeting ahead of schedule?"

The intruder spoke up.

"Up until 8 weeks ago things were going really well. I was doing exactly what you asked and no one suspected anything."

The first voice spoke.

"What do you mean, up until 8 weeks ago?"

"Fury brought in a new recruit that has me very worried. He's not like the other people in SHIELD. I'm worried that he might figure out what I'm doing and he has the skills to put a stop to it."

The deep voice spoke then.

"Who is he?"

The hooded figures' tone wasn't happy.

"The mercenary and assassin Hawkeye is now on their side."

There was a collective gasp of shock and anger from those assembled.

"That's exactly why I'm worried. He knows more about us than is healthy for him to know."

A distinctly female voice spoke for the first time.

"What can be done about him?"

A moment later the deep voiced man who was obviously the leader spoke.

"Is taking him out a possibility?"

The intruder's answer was short.

"No."

The female voice spoke again, she sounded very agitated.

"What do you mean no?"

"It would arouse too much suspicion if I succeeded and if I didn't then the chances of him finding out the truth are too high. No, we have to bide our time on this one if we are to succeed. We know Hawkeye is good, this can't be rushed."

The deep voice spoke again.

"I agree. This certainly changes things."

A new voice spoke up.

"What do we do then?"

"Don't do anything that might arouse suspicion is the first step. This especially goes for you S1; Hawkeye sees everything so you will have to be very careful. I want you to lay low for a while until further notice. I can't risk anyone finding out about us now."

The first voice spoke up.

"We always knew planting operatives in SHIELD was a risk. And now with Hawkeye in the picture that danger doubles, I'm still kicking myself that I didn't take the shot when I had it. I could have ended it all that day if I'd known who he was."

Hooded voice aka S1 spoke.

"Well you didn't so I now have to deal with it so shut up. Any more advice for me Boss?"

"Yes, I want you to stop what you are doing in SHIELD until further notice, we can't risk it. Play the good little SHIELD Agent who never does anything wrong and try to get more information on Hawkeye if you can. He has to have some weakness we don't know about that can be exploited. You're sure no one suspects you are a mole?"

S1 seemed offended.

"Yes I am, I'm always very careful to cover my tracks. No one suspects me or has any clue what I'm doing right under their noses."

The female voice spoke again.

"What about Hawkeye? Could he possibly ID you?"

"If he can it would only be by my voice. I've seen him and even spoken to him a couple of times since he's come in and he didn't give any sign of recognising me either way, I think I'm safe on that regard."

"Make sure it stays that way, you are not to do anything that makes him suspicious. Okay?"

S1 nodded.

"Okay Boss."

The new voice spoke.

"Sir, if I may?"

The Boss rounded on him.

"Yes, Y2?"

"Why was it necessary to kill Coulson?"

"Which I might add didn't work." The female voice added, she sounded rather sneering. "He's awake now and is going to be okay so if you ask me it was a colossal waste of time and resources that could have been better employed elsewhere."

The first voice spoke.

"The reason is none of your concern Y2. The Boss doesn't have to explain his every decision to you."

"That's right." Another female voice spoke, this one was slightly higher pitched than the other one. "The Boss is just that, the Boss. We do not question him about something after it is done so shut up and do as you're told."

"Thank you T2."

You could _feel_ her smile and it was a very threatening smile.

"You're welcome Boss."

The first female was still grumbling under her breath but she was ignored as the Boss spoke again.

"I think that we can all agree that we need to lay low in SHIELD for a bit but that doesn't mean the rest of our activities have to stop. In fact, everything's going so well I think it's time we moved our operation to the next level."

There was stunned silence for a long moment before several people started speaking at once so that you couldn't hear anything over the babble of voices.

"SILENCE!"

You could have heard a pin drop a second later.

The Boss spoke into the inky black silence of the room.

"In spite of this hiccup with SHIELD the rest of our operation is going well and so there doesn't seem much point in waiting to move on. We always knew that SHIELD was going to be the hardest challenge, halting our operation with them won't make things go backwards or interfere with us moving forward with our plan. It is time, my brothers and sisters, to enact Phase 3. Is everyone clear on what to do?"

There was a chorus of 'yes' interspersed with one 'no'. The Boss looked towards where S1 was sitting.

"What isn't clear that you would say no?"

"What am I supposed to do? I don't want to do nothing!"

The Boss levelled a frown in his direction.

"You have no choice, Hawkeye is dangerous and we can't take any risks now that he's on their side. Warn your seconds not to do anything either. I don't want anyone in SHIELD becoming suspicious about anything. Got it?"

S1 replied but didn't sound happy.

"Fine, I understand. That's not why you put me in SHIELD though."

"I put you in SHIELD because you are one of the best I've got and SHIELD is going to be the hardest nut to crack. Don't fail me or you will learn firsthand the penalty for failure. That goes for all of you. We all want the same thing so let's work together to achieve that people."

The second female spoke up again.

"Now that we are moving onto Phase 3 do we have an official name?"

An avalanche of voices greeted her question.

"Yes, what do we get to call ourselves?"

"We'll finally get a name to give to people; it has to be something memorable like...like..."

"Hydra?"

"Hydra is already taken you great fool."

"You seriously want to associate with those ass-holes in any way? Seriously, they're so nineteen-forties it's laughable..."

"They do get results..."

"Yeh, by killing everyone who stands in their way. Seriously, even their catch phrase is unimaginative..."

"Hail Hydra? That's a classic."

"No you turkey, the 'cut off one head, two more will take its place' line. If you want to know what I think..."

"Why would he want to know...?"

A high-pitched wining noise shut everyone up abruptly and had them all covering their ears. After about five seconds the dreadful noise stopped and you could have heard a pin drop in the sudden silence that followed. The voice of the Boss broke the enforced silence.

"Seriously, I sometimes wish that I'd stayed with Hydra, I often think working with those idiots was preferable to working with you goons. As you said, at least they get results. True, they do get it by killing anyone who isn't competent which I haven't got enough people to do. That being said if you don't start behaving when we have these meetings I just might reconsider my stance on that topic."

There was a small cough as a throat was cleared.

"So, what are we calling ourselves then?"

The Boss smiled in the darkness.

"Welcome all; as of right now you are all members of the Black Hooded Syndicate."

* * *

 **The end. (for now)**

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 **There you go. The plot thickens as the mystery deepens. And before you ask; yes, I am 98% sure about who the mole is and yes, it is someone we've already met. I am saying no more.**

 **Thankyou to my reviewers of chapter 10; Death is inevitable, GryffindorGangster, m klindt, CrazedFangirl13, amy. d. fuller. 9.**

 **Also thanks to everyone else who reviewed, followed or favourited this story. It means a lot to me to know that people like this and the enthusiasm you've all shown has inspired me to keep writing.**

 **Also, this story would literally not have been this good (and Fury in character) without the input of jaguarspot. I know I say this a lot but I will say it again, thankyou!**

 **Also to all those other people who helped make this story possible, a big thankyou. I went through some pretty tough patches with this story but was able to get over some really bad cases of writers block thanks to help from both friends and family.**

 **Also, all the quotes come from BrainyQuote.**

 **As I said I would yesterday there is a list of stories which will be written some day below. I will also be updating my profile page with them if you'll prefer to read them there. As usual summaries are likely to change before they are published but I'm pretty happy with the titles so I'm fairly certain they will stay the same.**

* * *

 _ **Dark Secrets**_

 _When Phil and Clint lead a routine mission to destroy a suspected Hydra research base located in Canada they unwittingly uncover much more than they bargained for. Dark secrets that have been hidden for over two decades finally come to light._

Takes place 2-3 years after Shades of Red and Black.

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 _ **Web of Lies**_

 _When Agent Clint Barton aka Hawkeye of SHIELD is sent on a mission to eliminate the notorious Russian assassin calling herself the Black Widow he intends from the beginning to make a different call. He didn't think for one minute that it would turn out to be a call that would almost kill him._

Natasha recruitment story.

Takes place 4? years after Shades of Red and Black.

(I haven't quite ironed out the timeline for this universe yet so I don't know specifics.)

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 **Also, a direct sequel to this story and a second story leading on from it are in the planning and early phase of writing stages but as of yet are unnamed. I will be updating my profile page when they do have a name and are close to being completed. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea when that will be. I welcome thoughts and comments about what people want or think is going to happen as there are still some parts of the story plans that are hazy and I could use a fresh perspective on.**

 **AustralianRanger012 out. (for the moment.)**


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